


Shadowed Hearts, Shattered Memories

by caffeinatednightowl



Series: Daughter of Dusk [6]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Au Ra Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Au Ra Xaela (Final Fantasy XIV), Au Ra Xaela Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), F/M, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Hate to Love, Lost Love, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Patch 5.3: Reflections in Crystal, Patch 5.3: Reflections in Crystal Spoilers, Pre-Patch 5.3: Reflections in Crystal, Slow Burn, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:39:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29603280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caffeinatednightowl/pseuds/caffeinatednightowl
Summary: Pulled across the rift, Xaela Warrior of Light Mara Kahkol must fight for the future of two worlds, guided by a man cloaked in shadow and lies. But in his every expression, she sees the reflection of a man she used to know, used to love. He's not the only one keeping secrets, longing for someone they cannot touch.Spoilers for Shadowbringers 5.0-5.3.
Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light
Series: Daughter of Dusk [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2024647
Comments: 18
Kudos: 27





	1. Across the Rift

**Author's Note:**

> It's finally here! Originally I planned on writing the sequel to [A Tale of Dusk and Dawn](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27721885/chapters/67850803) right away, but there was a lot of buildup and story groundwork to be done beforehand (and then the [Kisses](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28870593/chapters/70821522) prompt came out and...well...) This story will be from 5.0-5.3, and will probably be the longest work I've ever done. Though I'm sure you're all anxious, Mara and G'raha deserve their story told in full. I hope you'll sit back and enjoy the ride, especially those of you who have been here for the story since the beginning!
> 
> My thanks, especially, to the [Bookclub](https://discord.gg/enabling-debauched-xivfic) discord, for their encouragement (and tears) giving me the motivation to finally get this started!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let expanse contract, eon become instant...

_Now,_ now, _I have you!_

_Stay with me! Focus on my voice!_

_Let expanse contract, eon become instant!_

_Throw wide the gates so that we may pass!_

_~~~~~_

The Crystal Exarch gasped, panted, gripped his staff with all his might as he leaned on it in exertion. And the headache, the piercing headache—always did his head pound and pound after reaching across the Rift.

But it had to be done. Finally, after all those years—a full century—of planning for this moment, this _essential_ moment, did it all come to fruition. The fate of two worlds would pass from his hands to hers, as they had planned a lifetime ago.

Except…

Where was she?

The Crystal Exarch looked wildly around the unabashedly empty Ocular. No sound in the room but his shaking breaths, the hum of the tower, the frantic beating of his still-Spoken heart. _Where?_ Every other summoning, the Scions had been deposited, alarmed, enraged, and awkwardly naked before him. With Alisaie he even had to call upon the tower to make a barrier between them, for she was hellbent on tearing him limb-from-crystal-limb if she could. He had expected the Warrior of Light to arrive in a similar fashion (the threat of tearing limb-from-limb notwithstanding) but the longer he looked, the more worried he became.

He had left the beacon at the base of the Source’s Crystal Tower, did he not? He had felt her aether—had said the words—used the power of the Allagans to pull across the rift—He had done everything as he had before, right? And yet—and yet—

Perhaps it was because he had summoned her—perhaps it was the power of the Crystal Tower, but for the first time in a hundred years, that scent, _her scent_ , wrapped ‘round his nose—made his heart leap in his chest—

_Old parchment, jasmine flowers, and Eastern spice._

_…She is here!_

Heart pounding in his ears, he burst out of the Ocular, running into the Exedra, uncaring of the stares any might give to their leader rushing to the Crystarium Gate.

He was that scholar again, nervous as a young kit to see her again—the Warrior of Light, his inspiration.

His _love._

He ran, and he ran, past the concerned Crystarium guards, past the Lakeland gates. He had not run like this in years, his hammering heart and rampaging thoughts giving him limitless energy. He could’ve, he _would’ve_ run all over Lakeland and back again chasing that trail of aether, that faint scent, just to see her again…

Past the Exarch Gate, not there either. Had she appeared in the middle of Lakeland itself? His ears lowered under his hood, but he never did let up his frantic sprint— _Gods_ , she would be stuck out here, unawares of the dangers, the things she would face—he hoped she was not too far—

He _hoped_ he had not muddled this up too much as well—

To the Accensor Gate then? The Exarch followed her scent on the wind, stronger and stronger. It pulled at him, like a magnetic current. Closer, closer still—Lyna would be at the Accensor Gate at this time, would she not? Perhaps she could assist—

As if his thoughts brought her into being, the Exarch saw the tall form of Lyna standing there at the entrance gate, her twin chakrams drawn. Always at the ready, his Lyna…but she was standing still, not on patrol, but conversing with something, some _one_ —

He near-stumbled, frozen to the spot as he recognized the form that stood before the captain of the Crystarium guard.

He was still farther away but—

_Old parchment, jasmine flowers, and a fragrant, Eastern spice._

Her.

_Mara._

Electricity, quite unlike the power of the Crystal Tower, raced through his veins. He felt foolish now, flustered at his panicked sprint. He had imagined this moment for a hundred years and yet…and yet…

Nothing could’ve prepared him for it.

He swallowed, steadied himself. _Readied_ himself. Jogging forward, slower now, he approached the two, desperate to keep his voice casual; neutral. “Everything all right, Captain?”

 _She_ noticed him, and he drowned under her gaze.

It was Lyna who spoke first. “Quite all right, my lord. Just a stray sin eater, and a weak one at that.”

He could _not_ stare at her, not now. “I see. Weak or not, we should be on the lookout for more.”

Her eyes _burned_ into him; the hood was a blessing, now. “But I see you’ve met my guest. I will escort her to the Crystarium myself…if you have no objections?”

Lyna sighed. She was perhaps getting exasperated with all his “mysterious guests,” the opaque lies he told…but she never pushed. Somehow, despite her curiosity, for the love she bore him, she would never ask. And the Exarch was never more thankful for it. “Another one of your mysterious friends, is it? I should’ve known. Very well, I will inform the others that your guest is to be given the run of the city. Pray forgive my less-than-cordial welcome…May the rest of your stay be a pleasant one.”

Though Lyna said that, as she walked away, the Exarch caught the slightly narrowed eyes she gave him, for even Lyna was getting tired of the lies, the half-truths.

_Worry not, my dear Lyna, they will not be necessary for much longer._

As soon as Lyna was gone, _she_ approached him. His breath caught in his throat at the sight. It had been two years for her, but for him, it had been a long, long century since he last beheld her…She looked different, now; her hair long, in a high ponytail instead of about her shoulders. She had cast aside her favorite dark blue trench coat for the new Ishgardian fashions; a pinstriped, ruffled half-skirt of sturdy traveling material. Her face was less round, more hardened. For she had seen much, lost much, in all that time.

_You have known much cruelty. For a while, I wish to show you all kindness, if you would allow it, my Mara…_

“You again!” she snapped, violet eyes narrowed in anger, ripping him out of his reverie. “You brought me here?”

The Exarch’s ears lowered under his hood. Aware of the Crystarium guards nearby, he began, “Yes, well…let us speak of this in private. If you come with me we can speak further—” He gestured toward the Exarch Gate behind them, back toward the Crystarium.

“No, we speak now!” said Mara, stepping closer, causing him to take a stumble back in alarm. “ _Where_ am I?”

“Just—just a moment!” He asked, _begged_ , taking her by the hand and leading her to a more _private_ area before the guards started asking questions. The Exarch noticed a few of them had turned their way after her outburst. He didn’t even have the wherewithal to realize he was _touching her for the first time in a hundred years_ until he had already drawn her away. “Right, then. I _had_ intended to bring you directly to my personal quarters, but my aim was slightly off. You seem to have made the crossing unharmed, so…”

“Do you have _any_ idea how much trouble you caused?” She yelled, wrenching her hand from his.

His ears were near-pinned to his head now. “An inkling yes, I…I can only beg your forgiveness. Matters here forced my hand. I had no other choice but to seek the aid of you and your companions…to bring you here.”

Mara took a step back, folding her arms across her chest, raising a dark blue eyebrow, her scaled tail swishing behind her in agitation. “And…where are we?”

“I was…I was getting to that!” he sputtered. How was it that this woman could still set him off-balance, after all this time? “This realm is one of the thirteen reflections, or _shards._ The world you know is known as the Source—the source of all these shards. This shard is known as the First…though its inhabitants are largely unaware of that fact. And I would like to _keep it that way._ ”

“Hm…” Mara turned, gazed about the landscape. The Exarch did love the landscape of Lakeland. Besides the fact it was one of the few places in Norvrandt that he could walk about without much trouble, separated from the tower, he always found the landscape quite beautiful. The violet trees and violet grass…Her dark purple eyes flicked back to him.

He always did have an attachment to violet.

“This place is reflection of my world? Of Eorzea? Does not look it.”

“Upon closer inspection, you’ll find it more similar than you think. Many of the landscapes, the climates—they reflect places that are familiar to you. Even the language itself. I am told that Vrandtic is quite similar to your Eorzean, with a few small differences.”

“You speak Eorzean, though,” said Mara, tilting her head quizzically. “Aren’t you?”

“I—!” _Fool! Of course she would notice with the Echo!_ “I thought you might be more approachable in your native tongue.”

“Eorzean is not my native tongue anyway,” she sighed, looking away. He knew it, and had picked up on one key subtle difference from before; she spoke Eorzean even better now, her accent quite diminished. He remembered a time, so long ago, when she struggled to say his name properly, when she would sometimes mix up words.

She was different now, surely…but so was he.

“I will answer all your questions in due time, but I would be a poor host if I continued haranguing you in the middle of the road. Might we continue our talk on the way to the Crystarium?” The Exarch gestured back to the city…and the tower.

It was near imperceptible, but he saw it—the subtle shift in her expression as she looked on the tower, the way her fingers dug into her arms—the way she quickly turned away. “All right,” she said, lowering her arms.

“Excellent,” the Exarch said, forcing a smile on his face, as he turned and led the way.

~~~~~

On the road to the Crystarium, they spoke of the Flood, of the doom that awaited the Source. She listened attentively, asking questions, but the entire time she just seemed…exhausted, tired. Years and years of being the Warrior of Light, of the Savior of Eorzea were taking its toll. The Exarch could only imagine what she was feeling now, cast adrift in another realm, another heavy burden to lift. But she was Hydaelyn’s Champion, and she knew her calling—lift it she would, no matter the cost.

_Worry not, my love, this time, I will stand and lift it with you._

Her stoicness faded as they stepped through the gate into the Crystarium, her violet eyes wide as she beheld its shimmering crystal buildings. She sucked in a small breath, “This is…?”

For all the modest impression he tried to put on, the Crystal Exarch couldn’t help the warmth of pride in his breast as she looked upon the city, _his_ city. “Welcome to the Crystarium. This is a city built at the heart of Norvrandt, a city for all those that need a home in the wake of the Flood. We built in the Crystal Tower’s shadow, and rely on it for protection, for much of our technology.”

“It reminds me of…” she began, stopped. The Exarch saw how her eyes lowered for the briefest of moments. “This city was built in wake of Flood, you say?”

He nodded, “That is right. When the Crystal Tower appeared, many were drawn to it; to the beacon of hope it provided. And so, this city was built in its wake, to protect those who needed protecting. Many races and cultures now call the Crystarium home, and we strive to provide for all of them.”

“I see…” she said, biting her lip for a moment; always one of her tells when something was on her mind. Though she would not reveal it, not yet.

The Exarch led her on a tour of the city, speaking of its various districts and functions. _I built this city for you,_ he longed to say, to lay bare the truth of it all. _With every brick, every beam, I did it thinking of you, knowing you would visit one day._ She listened closely to his explanations, occasionally commenting as they walked along, the Crystarium residents occasionally nodding to him or giving him a deferent smile.

As he led her to the Exedra, at the base of the Crystal Tower, she spoke again, glancing around the square. “All people here…they look up to you.”

“I am the Crystal Exarch,” he said, shrugging. “I am caretaker of this city, and of the tower. I suppose I am something of a leader of men, though I admit I did not intend to it, in the beginning.”

“Hmm,” she said, turning her eyes back to the tower. “Tell me something. The tower…I know of Crystal Tower in my homeland. It is…it is place I do not like to go. Why is there tower here as well?”

Ah, they were at the heart of the matter. The lie had been years in the making. “It is the selfsame one you know from the Source, transported to the First in its entirety.”

She looked back to him, violet eyes wide. “The same?”

“It was my first attempt at breaching the boundaries between worlds—something of a trial run for your eventual crossing. I admit I do not know which era I tore it from, but its arrival served to set the wheels of fate in motion. When I first summoned the tower, when I first walked inside, I knew I had the tools at hand to chart a course for the salvation of this star…and yours.”

He saw _something_ in her eyes. A deep longing—and hope. Her accent grew stronger, her Eorzean worse as she said in a rush, “Gate of tower open? Just like that? Then…then G’raha Tia is…?”

That name hit him like lightning bolt to the heart.

Breath caught in his throat, he struggled to collect himself—she _must_ not know. She must _never_ know. His left hand, his _Spoken_ hand, clenched to a fist, his jaw slammed shut.

_Don’t give it away! Not now!_

He expected this, he expected her to ask, he _expected_ that name to pass her lips, and yet…

“I…I am not familiar with that name. Is there something I should know?”

She let out a breath she had been holding… _waiting_ for something. Eyes lowered, she looked down at the ground, her voice small. “G’raha Tia was…he was a friend. A very…very good friend. And that tower…when I saw it again I thought…I _hoped…_ ”

She spun him a tale of the man she once knew, the man he once _was._ A scholar, a Sharlayan Archaeon, fun-loving, always with a smile, who had wished to learn the truth of his Allagan eye. A tale of a wonderful summer, full of laughter, of smiles, of _adventure,_ and then...then only mourning for those left behind.

All this, she spoke to him, and he could do naught but stand there and hear it, wishing with all his might he could wrap his arms around the woman before him. Hold her tight, throw back his hood, screaming, _“I’m here! I’m_ here _, my love!”_

But G’raha Tia was no more, he was dead and buried, and from his ashes rose the Crystal Exarch, a man of shadow, myth, and lies.

So many lies.

His nails dug into the palm of his Spoken hand, but he did not let it show in what she could see of his face, not even for an instant. “An extraordinary tale,” he forced himself to say. Forced himself to _believe_. “But I’m afraid I found no such individual residing in the tower when it passed into my care. Mayhap we can revisit that another time. For now, I think it best we focus on the present.”

Even so, he saw the way she tensed, the way she forced herself under control. He had hoped she would have forgotten him; have hated him after what he did.

But out of life, he had never gotten what he wanted.

_~~~~~_

Mara walked into the room in the Crystarium’s inn, looking around as the door shut behind her. It was a very nice room compared to the inns she had stayed at over time; large, with its own kitchen, sitting area—clearly this was a premium room, not the sort they would give to wandering adventurers.

_He did say he would get something comfortable prepared, didn’t he?_

Sighing, exhausted from the day, Mara sat down on the bench next to the door, her ruffled skirt swishing aside. Reaching up, she undid her high ponytail, her long, dark blue hair cascading around her, falling to her waist. Shaking it out, brushing it behind her horns, she remembered the words _he_ said to her as he bid her goodnight, if this could even count _as_ night, _“May peaceful dreams attend you, nonetheless.”_

The Crystal Exarch, hmm…

She wasn’t sure what to think of him the first time she met him, in that plane of the In-Between. She was furious at him, sure, for the man admitted he was the one that stole the Scions from her side, and now had snatched her across the Rift. Here she was, pulled into another battle that was not hers, all for the sake of the world. Of _two_ worlds. As usual, she didn’t get much choice in the matter. _“To save the First, I had to call upon the aid of the greatest of heroes. For in saving the First, you would bring salvation to the Source as well.”_ He had explained this, but it didn’t mean that Mara _liked_ it.

Despite this, he had shown her around the city, _his_ city, given her access to all comforts. For she was the Exarch’s “mysterious friend” and that afforded her some level of privilege, as evidenced by this spacious inn room. So far, he had shown her all kindness, had been open about her situation, and yet…

_“What say you? Have I earned your trust for the moment, at least?”_

She had hesitated, answering that question. How could she bring herself to trust him? A man that had ripped her friends from her, dragged her across worlds? Drawn her into a fight that wasn’t hers, into a world that wasn’t hers?

Her instincts wouldn’t allow it. How could she trust a man like that, who had to hide his face, cloaked himself in shadow and glamour? He was hiding something, _obviously_. There was so much Mara was sure he wasn’t telling her…though there was much she didn’t tell him, as well.

When she first had seen the tower, back in Lakeland, she had felt her stomach churn, the horror, the _revulsion_ set in. It had taken her time to will herself back to the Crystal Tower in the Source to search for the Exarch’s beacon, but seeing it again, so soon—

That tower would always haunt her.

And when the Exarch told her it was the same one from the Source, and that the gates were left open…

 _“Then…G’raha Tia is…?”_ She had asked him, some part of her begging him to have an answer—to tell her where her scholar was once and for all.

But he had no answers, not this time. Whatever era this tower was from, G’raha Tia no longer slumbered…or it was long before his slumber even began. Mara swallowed hard, leaning over, hugging herself across the chest.

She had been doing so well, keeping her memories of _him_ locked away…but seeing the tower brought them all back again. The way he had smiled, the way he had laughed…the way he _looked_ at her, like she was the most precious thing in the world…all of it so pure, like a fairytale, now. And the way it all came crashing down, that day in Syrcus Tower—

Mara shook her head, reaching up, clutching her mother’s jade pendant that lay hidden beneath her clothes. No, she could not—she _would_ not drown in this, not now! The tower was at the heart of the city; she would have to walk by it every day. And that meant being able to look at it without dreaming of _him_ every. Damn. Time!

Besides, she had decided, had she not? After what he did, how he hurt her…it was easier to hate him for it. He had kissed her the night before knowing full well what he was planning to do the next day. He had led her on, just to break her heart in the end.

G’raha Tia didn’t deserve to be _missed._

But the Crystal Exarch didn’t know that, and she would _never_ tell him. If the man was going to keep secrets, then she could keep some secrets of her own. With everything that he had put her through, everything that he was going to put her through, it was only right.

And so, back to the heart of the matter…

_“What say you? Have I earned your trust for the moment, at least?”_

A man of shadow could not be trusted, not one bit.

But she was a daughter of the dusk, a keeper of a few secrets herself.

“ _For the moment.”_

And then he _smiled_. A smile that, despite everything, reminded her of someone else, so long ago…

Sighing, Mara sat up from the bench, heading over to the large shutters at the far end of the room. _Ridiculous._ She knew she only thought it looked similar due to the tower. _No matter what, G’raha Tia is going to haunt me wherever I go, isn’t he?_

Reaching up, she pushed open the shutters, revealing that searing light, the shimmering gold skies. _At least this is a fine distraction, for now._

As she was staring at the skies, contemplating her latest adventure, that’s when she heard the voice behind her. “You…? I know you…You’re the Warrior of Light from the Source!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to see more great ffxiv fic, join our [bookclub](https://discord.gg/enabling-debauched-xivfic)!


	2. City of Final Pleasures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mara travels to Eulmore to get more information about the First...and the Exarch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: suicidal thoughts

The Crystal Exarch closed the portal, taking one last look at the sleeping form of Mara in her suite in the Pendants. Despite the blazing skies outside, it was good she was able to sleep, at least. He had been worried how the light would affect her; several of the other Scions had trouble their first couple of nights, but they had gotten used to it, in the end.

Everyone got used to it eventually.

Sighing, he leaned back, steadying himself on his staff.

_So._

At long last…

He had waited for this day for so long, and now that it was here it didn’t feel quite real. She was _here_ , she was _alive_. Whole and hale before him. It was something he had dreamed about for over a century and yet…

He supposed he’d have to wait a while for the final realization of it all to kick in.

The Exarch scratched the back of his neck, fingers running through the wispy red hairs at the base of his braid. The tips of his hair had turned white over the years, perhaps an effect of the crystal, but the roots were as red as ever, though slightly faded. _Perhaps I am finally starting to show my years…_

Of late, his age had started catching up to him—His crystal joints, the transition where crystal met flesh had ached and ached if he did not suppress it with the Tower. Like an old man complaining of the knees, he was plagued by a pain the Spagyrics could not numb. His right arm, especially—crystal joints cracked and slid against one another, and it took to funneling the aether in specific ways, akin to the flow of aether in the body the Eastern geomancers had studied, in order to get it moving at all.

And more so than that, though he did not need to sleep, did not need to eat, he had felt tired, fatigued so often these days—the Tower could suppress it, but it was happening more and more often. He felt weary, exhausted, wishing for a moment of respite, of peace. Whenever another sin eater attack happened, whenever he had to attend another funeral, comfort the grieving families he just—wished for an end to this. Wished he didn’t have to be the one the Crystarium looked for in comfort, for safety, when he so, _so_ much wanted to hide away and let another take his place. G’raha Tia had never considered himself a _leader_ ; he was but a scholar, to follow and let others take the lead.

It was a hard adjustment, one he hadn’t anticipated when he had come to the First. He had to be there to celebrate the successes, soothe the losses. To console the grieved, mourning on his own in private. Ever did he have to think about how is actions would look; had to carefully guard himself to put on the right example. He loved his people, but they did not understand him; he could never be his true self around them. For over a hundred years, he had played a part, keeping his true self under lock and key.

By now, the masquerade was all but complete; the key had been lost, the lock rusted shut. He was G’raha Tia no more. He never _would_ be G’raha Tia again.

Though the moment he saw her again, that moment in Lakeland, felt pretty damn close.

He sighed again, resting his head against the fist that grasped his cane; the symbol of his office. It had given him that moment, aye, but as for the rest…he was so very, very tired. All the hard work of a century was soon coming to an end…as would his life. And yet, he was not afraid. Nay, he embraced it, relished it. For with his death, would she live, but also—

With his death, finally, _finally_ , would he find rest. Relief. 

He longed for that feeling of peace more than anything else.

_~~~~~_

_Mara fought back against the arms that gripped her, trying to push and pull herself away—to get to_ him. _He looked so small, so fragile bracketed by those huge, golden doors. Tears clouded her eyes, warping her vision as she cried out, words dripping off her tongue as she begged him to stay—not to leave her alone._

_There was a whirr of cogs and magic—an awful sound that turned her veins to ice—the doors were closing, cutting him off from her forever._

_Her heart burst in two, everything crashing down to nothing as she cried out, one last time. “Wait!” She wrenched an arm free, scrabbing to reach him, to pull him back. He had been walking away, but stopped, took one last look back. Her hair whipped around her face, stuck to the tear tracks on her cheeks. “Raha!”_

_And then the doors slammed shut._

_And the only thing she had ever wanted was gone._

Mara jerked awake, breathing hard, wetness in the corners of her eyes. Dreaming…nothing but a dream. She panted, brushing aside her mussed hair as she pulled her knees up to her chest under the quilt.

How many times had she had _that_ dream? Too many to count. And now…

Now…

Shuffling out of bed, her wrinkled pinstripe skirt ruffling around her (not like she had any other clothes, not yet) she looked around the still-unfamiliar inn room. She remembered where she was, why she was here, although…

She walked to the shutters, pushed them open, grimacing at the searing blast of unrelenting light. And there, cutting into the sky like a finger of defiance, was the Crystal Tower.

Oh, she _hated_ that tower, hated what it had stolen from her, but she could look at it without recoiling, now. Perhaps she was getting used to it.

“Nightmares? I remember getting those. When you’ve seen too much, it all comes back to haunt you, in the end.”

Mara narrowed her eyes, turning back to see Ardbert standing there. A faint glow around him, lighting up the corner of the room, his arms folded across his chest. “Have you nothing better to do but spy on me?”

Ardbert shrugged, “It’s not like I have anywhere else to be. You’re the only one who can even _see_ me. Besides, I don’t hang around _all_ the time. I respect people’s privacy.”

Mara rolled her eyes. It appeared that her telling him off last night didn’t deter him in the slightest. “Fine, then. Do as you wish. But do not make habit of watching me sleep.”

Ardbert rolled his eyes. “I’ll try not to.” With that, he faded from view.

Leaning back against the window, Mara sighed, her long, unbound hair swishing past her shoulders. She knew at once it was going to be a _long_ day. With one last look (one last _glare_ ) at the Crystal Tower in the distance, she turned, threw the shutters closed.

_~~~~~_

As she went into the Ocular, the Crystal Exarch smiled as she walked forward, seemingly unaware of her already foul mood. “How did you find your new quarters? Comfortable, I trust?”

Mara stood across from him, giving him a quizzical look. He sounded like…like a man hoping she would approve. Like he was happy to wait on her hand and foot; make sure she wanted for nothing. Like a servant would act…or a lover. The quarters were fine on their own, but…for a moment, she fantasized about telling him about her mysterious midnight visitor, a “ghost in her quarters,” perhaps…but if she truly was the only one who could see Ardbert (the Echo must have something to do with it, as Ardbert theorized) then what was the point? “They were fine, thank you,” replied Mara, carefully neutral.

Though Mara could not see his eyes, she could sense that they were probably sparkling beneath that hood. “That is good to hear! Should you want for anything, pray let me know. You deserve as much comfort as I can provide, while you are here. Now, on the subject of the Scions whereabouts—”

Mara cut him off before he could speak further. “Why?”

His warm smile dropped. “Pardon?”

“Why are you…” Mara bit her lip, glancing away for a moment. How should she put this? “You don’t need to take _care_ of me. I am used to…I am used to taking care of myself.”

His mouth fell open slightly; challenged. She could feel those hidden eyes piercing her—looking _through_ her, as if he could see down to her soul. “Should you be?” he asked, softly, almost a whisper.

Meeting his gaze, she found she didn’t know how to answer.

Thankfully, he didn’t dwell on it. “Let us…let us get back to the matter at hand,” he said, his fingers tensing in the grip on his staff. “If you will indulge me, let me show you this map of Norvrandt…”

_~~~~~_

Upon seeing Kholusia, Mara understood now what the Crystal Exarch had said about some areas of the First looking familiar. Looking at the sprawling coastline, the once-windy meadows, Mara knew she had seen all of this before. _It’s La Noscea,_ she thought, recognizing the land where she had first made her home in Eorzea. It was all too familiar— _achingly_ familiar—a window to the past in a world she had never known.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” said the Zun Szem Djenmai as they dismounted the amaro, stepping onto the pebbly beach. “Kholusia is one of my favorite places to fly, the water shimmers under the skies.”

“Mmm,” said Mara, unable to answer. The air here was still; no gentle sea breezes here to bring the salty air in. Even the most backwater of villages in La Noscea looked like a paradise compared to the time-stopped, frozen tide of the beach they stood on.

“Since it is an island, isolated from the rest of Norvrandt, Sin Eater attacks are less prevalent here. But you should be more wary of the people instead.” He gestured over, far away, but a mere smudge on the horizon—yet the smudge was an eerily familiar shape. “See that, in the distance? That is Eulmore, the island’s main settlement.”

Mara’s breath caught in her throat as she stared. It _was_ Limsa Lominsa! But— _different_. Limsa Lominsa in another time, another place. But the shape of the city, the citadel hanging out over the water—it was in every way the first city she had stepped into years ago, when she first made her way to Eorzea.

How many other familiar haunts would she see here, on this shard across the Rift? Perhaps, if the Flood had not taken place, there would’ve been an analogue to the Steppe as well…

The zun continued to speak, unknowing of her musings, “It rivals the Crystarium in scale, and in more ways than that, I am afraid. They were once an ally in our battle against the Sin Eaters…until…”

Mara turned back to him. “Until?”

“Now, the Eulmoreans fancy themselves the masters of what remains of our world. They have gone so far as to offer the leaders of other settlements their protection, if we bend the knee. The Crystarium resists their authority, and while we are not at war, our relationship with Eulmore is strained, at best. It may be wise to conceal your ties with the Exarch while you are here, especially in the vicinity of the city.”

 _What ties?_ Mara thought grimly. She and the Exarch were strangers, for the most part. She barely knew him at all, this man who had pulled her to another world into a fight that was not her own. The Exarch was practically nothing to her, and such tenuous ties would hardly be a threat to this Eulmore.

Still…

“I can keep quiet, if that is what needed. I would not want to trouble the Exarch.”

The zun just gave a little chuckle. “You needn’t worry about the Exarch. He can handle himself.”

Mara thought on that, glancing back at Eulmore in the distance. “Indeed…

She knew the Exarch must be powerful, to pull her and the Scions across the Rift but…just how powerful was he?

_~~~~~_

“I see,” said Alphinaud, slumping back in his chair in the Stilltide tavern. “Yes, it is good to hear the news from home, though I assume the standstill with Garlemald will not be for long. With what we’ve postulated, us and the Exarch, we’ve developed a theory as to how the Rejoining will be set in motion. I’m sure Urianger himself can cover the subject in more detail, but the Exarch was sure that our coming to the First can be the trigger to stop it from happening.”

“Hmm,” Mara thought, tracing subtle patterns on the wooden table with her fingertip. The Exarch, _again._ For a man that tried to appear so modest, he seemed to have a hand in nearly everything she had seen, so far.

“Something on your mind, my friend?”

Well, it _was_ Alphinaud. He would’ve noticed sooner or later. “What do you think of him?” She asked, looking into the Elezen’s eyes for certainty. “The Exarch?”

“The Exarch?” His white eyebrows raised, surprised. “Well, I think he is sincere about saving this world, and the lengths he would go to save it. He seems to be a kind man, for the people of the Crystarium speak of him fondly. Powerful, too…immensely powerful. In a way…” Alphinaud trailed off, looking at the ceiling. “He reminds me of my grandfather. Warm, kindhearted but…more powerful than you would think behind the façade.”

“Like Master Loui—Louisoix?” Mara stuttered a bit on the name. Elezen names were still a bit of a bother to pronounce, after all these years. “You would compare Exarch to him?” She had never ( _officially,_ she wasn’t sure if the shade she met in the Binding Coil counted) met the man, the former leader of the Circle of Knowing, but everyone spoke of him with high praise; an underlying respect for all that power.

Alphinaud shrugged. “It is the most apt comparison I can think of. Grandfather sought to forestall a calamity, after all.”

“Let us hope Exarch succeeds,” said Mara, folding her arms across her chest. “But for what he did, pulling us all across the Rift…I don’t know what to think.”

“ _Mara,_ ” sighed Alphinaud heavily, a sigh that Mara knew well by now. “I know the situation wasn’t… _ideal_ , but both Alisaie and I have spent much time in his company, as we tried to puzzle out how to forestall the calamity. I really do think he is a force for good. Despite his, shall we say, mysterious tendencies, I think we can trust him.” He paused, clarified. “I _hope_ we can trust him.”

After a moment, Mara said though gritted teeth, “I hope _you_ can, too.”

_~~~~~_

The city of Eulmore was _revolting._

Perhaps it was because she had grown up as Kahkol, where idleness was seen as selfishness, or her time in Eorzea where she had seen too many people fight and die to save others rather than embracing debauchery and death…but everything in this place got under her skin. Form the perfume they insisted she wear that irritated her scales, to the trussed-up gentry flittering about the canopy, ordering their manservants around. Oh sure, everyone was _so happy_ with the arrangement, appearing amiable and friendly, but everything, _everything_ about this place was _wrong._

Alphinaud’s plan of getting them in the city had borne fruit, and while their new patrons didn’t seem to be cruel, Mara didn’t have time for them as they fawned over the _adorable_ Alphinaud and his “pretty pictures.” As soon as she could slip away, she did, hoping to find _some_ information on why everything about this place set her on edge.

Gathering for information was not as hard as Mara thought; the people were content to tell her everything they knew. The people were somewhat…off. Like they weren’t all the way there; all the way in control. She puzzled over it as she got up from the game table in the Beehive (Her face had gone bright red, upon realizing _what_ , exactly, she had walked in to at first—she had seen plenty of scantily-clad dancing girls in Ul’dah, but she had never _willingly_ walked into such an establishment!) mulling over what Tista-Bie had told her. _Lord Vauthry has the power to command the Sin Eaters…how? How would a man get such power?_

As she walked by another table, a blond Hyur ( _Hume_ , she reminded herself) with his arm around another girl whistled to her. “Hey there, Sweetheart, I couldn’t help but notice you’ve been chatting with the locals a bit much tonight. You need to slow down and enjoy life, I think! What say you hop up on stage and give us a dance, little one?” He reached out, his fingertips brushing the ruffles on her pinstripe skirt.

Mara whirled around, smacking back his hand, violet eyes wild. _“Fuck off,”_ she sneered, walking faster out of the Beehive. No matter where she went, men were all the _same!_

Seething, she intended to march back to the Grande Dame’s parlor and confront Alphinaud with what she had learned. That is, if the master artist wasn’t too busy _“painting pretty pictures!”_

But as Mara made her way back to the center of the Canopy, she heard a scream from above. After the perfumed, easy-going Eulmore folk, _that_ sound seemed to snap them out of their trance. Mara looked right and left for some sort of inkling to what was going on, when the jongleurs from before came rushing in to deliver the news, their smiles contorted wildly in sadistic glee. “Ladies and gentlemen, your attention please, a tale to make you quiver and your noble blood freeze! A villain was on the loose, set to ruin our fair city, but our lord has got him now, and his fate will not be pretty! One and all who’d watch it are invited to join his lordship in the Offer!”

The citizens of Eulmore buzzed about themselves before heading to the lift—Mara followed the crowd, skirts swishing behind her. Finally, a chance to see this Lord Vauthry in the flesh…

As she was heading up, she caught a familiar white head streaking for the lift. “Playing dress-up, then?” said Mara flatly, looking over Alphinaud’s new clothes.

“The Chais offered, it was—it was to better get into a role,” he stammered, smoothing about his new jacket. “But we may not need that now…”

The crowd was thick in Lord Vauthry’s chamber, as Mara and Alphinaud made their way to the forefront of the crowd. The chamber was large, as befitting the ruler of a city; bright, opulent. Compared to the Exarch’s simple chambers, everything glittered and shone, like a dragon hoarding wealth. But as for the “dragon” itself…

Mara had never seen such an ugly thing in her life.

Obese, sweaty, rotten—Lord Vauthry seemed to wobble and roll around with selfish joy, his multiple chins wobbling as his beady eyes looked upon his people. One of his hands lay on the silk pillows surrounding his stinking bulk—and all around his platform were Sin Eaters. Like marble statues they were, golden and beautiful, but they were alive—and _docile._ Hauntingly beautiful, but deadly.

 _A reminder of what can happen to the citizens if Lord Vauthry chooses…_ Thought Mara, glancing around, looking for the source of the scream. But as she turned her gaze away from above, she saw a figure in the center of the room—smelled the metallic twang of blood in the air. The person was curled about themselves, twitching and crying, “Mercy…Mercy…”

“By the Twelve!” Alphinaud called out, rushing forward. “Kai-Shirr!” Mara ran after him, kneeling down to see to the Miqo’te’s ( _Mystel’s!)_ wound. It was a deep gash, but he would live if he got healing _now._

“Who are these impudent louts!” Came the booming, harsh voice of Lord Vauthry. “I do not recall requesting their presence.”

Mara kept her eyes on the sin eaters, wary, but Alphinaud could not contain himself. “Lord Vauthry! What is the meaning of this! Why is this poor man bleeding to death on your floor?”

Vauthry sneered, waving his pudgy hand. “Why? You ask me _why?_ Because criminals must be punished, and this man is guilty of fraud. Those who have naught to give and live only to _take_ are a blight upon our society!”

 _Speak for yourself, fat man. I have killed primals smaller than you,_ thought Mara, grimacing. Her hands clenched into fists, and she itched to start something—this whole place still set her on edge, _everything_ an ilm away from setting her off—Still, she bit her tongue, not wanting to get into a fight here, with so many innocents. “Alphinaud,” she said firmly, pulling him back. He nodded to her, reaching a hand out as shimmering, bright healing magic washed over Kai-Shirr.

“Who gave you permission to tend to that criminal’s wounds?” Snapped Vauthry, bobbing up and down like a spoiled child, his fat bouncing with him. “Were you invited to this city as a healer? _Well?_ ”

Alphinaud released the magic, standing up, glaring daggers into Vauthry. While Alphinaud had always been the more even-tempered of the Twins, Mara had never seen him so angry. “I came as an artist.”

“Oho, an artiste!” Vathry’s mouth contorted into a wide, mocking smile. “Fine then. Paint a picture of me, the crown jewel of Eulmore. The greatest ruler in all of Norvrandt! If I find your art _pleasing_ then I will excuse this display of insolence.”

Mara had helped Kai-Shirr to his feet as Alphinaud stood, staring at Vauthry, his glare never letting up. “Hn,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “What you need is a mirror, not a painting. I daresay it could capture the horror I see before me far better than I ever could.” With that, he swiftly turned on his heel, the edge of his new jacket flapping behind him, reaching a hand out to help Kai-Shirr through the crowd.

Mara couldn’t help the smirk. _You’re learning,_ she thought, with a fair bit of pride, as Vauthry raged behind them.

_~~~~~_

The Crystal Exarch closed the portal, worried at the events in Eulmore but heartened at the fact that Mara and Alphinaud had made it out of the city safely. Soon, Mara would head to Amh Araeng to meet with Alisaie, and that was a meeting he was sure the Warrior of Light was greatly looking forward too, considering their parting.

In the meantime, while the Warrior of Light began her reunions and took stock of this broken world, he had work to do. The Lightwardens were waiting, and they could not afford to bide their time for them to make the first move. He would have to send out scouts, look at local sin eater reports. It had been a while since the Lightwarden of Lakeland had been spotted, so he should find out where it might be before her return…

His thoughts were interrupted as a knock came at the door, his unbound ears flicking toward the sound. “My Lord,” came the voice of Lyna from behind the door.

He didn’t bother raising up his hood; she was the only person he had ever revealed his true self to. “Enter.”

Though she was the closest thing he had to family here, she still treated him with the respect due to her leader, “My Lord,” she repeated, forming a Crystarium salute. “Scouts report increased sin eater activity in the north of Lakeland…should we close off the gates?”

Just what he was waiting for. “Not yet, but we should be ready in case we get an influx of refugees,” he said, hand tightening on his staff. “We should keep an eye on it, see if it’s the normal attacks or a sign of something more.”

“Right,” she nodded. “I’ll set some scouts to keep watch. We can have them rendezvous at Ford Jobb for the time being.”

“Yes, that might be best. Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”

She nodded and yet she did not leave.

Lyna was not one to linger… _unless…_

“Speak your mind, Lyna.”

She paused a moment, glancing away from him. “All these mysterious friends of yours, you treated all the same, except…”

His ears lowered slightly; ruby eyes narrowed. He knew it was coming…as much as he hid himself from the rest of the Crystarium, Lyna could always tell. “ _She_ is different, isn’t she?”

He knew exactly whom she was speaking of.

“I’ve never seen you run like that,” she continued, too casually, adjusting the strap on her bracer. “Like…like it was life and death.” Her light eyes slid up to meet his.

He was the first one that looked away. He could not betray it, not even to Lyna. “I care about all my friends. But I saw in the portal, she had been wandering around Lakeland for gods-knows how long. It could’ve been dangerous, it could’ve been—”

“ _Grandfather_ ,” said Lyna, her voice soft; caring. “Something changed the moment you saw her. Like your breath was taken away. And even after that, every time you look at her…though you hide your eyes, I know well enough what lies in them.”

As sharp as ever, his Lyna…The Exarch sighed, his ears lowering to his head. Shutting his eyes, he whispered, “Please don’t…Just _don’t_ , Lyna.”

When he opened them, she was looking at him curiously…but she relented. “I’ll have the scouts keep watch like you requested, My Lord,” she said, giving one final salute in all formality—though her eyes still held that look.

That _pity._

“Thank you, Lyna,” he said, looking away, longing for the comfort of his hood.

She left him to his solitude, his oldest friend. He leaned on his staff, resting his forehead against the cool metal, his faded bangs hiding his crimson eyes. Let Lyna wonder, then. As long as it was only Lyna…

But he’d have to keep better control of his treacherous heart, lest it betray him again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to see more great ffxiv fic, join our [bookclub](https://discord.gg/enabling-debauched-xivfic)!


	3. The Sin Eaters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mara travels to Amh Araeng to meet with Alisaie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: talks of euthanasia

Amh Araeng was…hot.

The air felt heavy, thick; like the heat of the day was pressing down, down. Not a dry heat like Thanalan, though it had a strange sense of mugginess…perhaps it was an effect of the light skies above? Mara always hated deserts; Au Ra were people of temperate climates, the dry air always dried out her scales. A few tribes had mastered the desert of Nhaama’s Retreat, but Mara didn’t have their wisdom to draw on. Either way, just like Kholusia, she had a vague sense of _wrongness_ of it all.

Alphinaud had left her to go back to the Crystarium, but she had chosen to travel along to Amh Araeng to find Alisaie. It wasn’t like there was anyone back in the Cyrstarium that she needed to see. The Exarch could be briefed from Alphinaud without her needing to be there…and it wasn’t like she particularly enjoyed his company.

She still wasn’t sure if she could trust him, after all.

Still, she tried not to let that thought linger—she was here to see Alisaie, though she had not met her yet. First, she met the bubbly Tesleen in Mord Souq, who had regaled her of tales of her friend as they made their way to the Inn at Journey’s Head.

 _Little Ala Mhigo,_ thought Mara, as she looked upon the tall rocks that hid the interior from view.

“Been a while since we’ve had visitors from the Crystarium,” said Tesleen, setting down the box of her supplies. “We’re quite remote out here, but its better that way, for the patients…”

Mara looked around at the “Inn”, with rough cots and weathered tents placed around inside. The tall rocks gave protection from the heat, the harsh light above, but for convalescence… “Why not be more near society?” Asked Mara, looking around as the carers tended to the patients in their cots. Strangely, though the patients were of all races, all of them seemed to be slightly…pale. Faded.

“Ah, well, its due to the situation…You might want to talk things over with Alisaie. She can explain it.”

Mara glanced at Tesleen, as the blonde Hyur ( _Hume!)_ brushed aside her long hair in discomfort. So, just like Kholusia, there was a lot here that needed explanation. Mara had been all over Eorzea, had seen quarantine zones; most of them were walled off, too, but were near enough buy for easy retrieval of supplies, for medical care. Easy access for the patients to leave once they recovered. But here…

It was like they were not planning for anyone to recover.

“Alisaie should be out on patrol, perhaps that way?” said Tesleen, pointing, by way of explanation. “I’m certain she’ll be happy to see you! She’s told me so much about you and…” Tesleen trailed off, suddenly awkward. “Anyway, yes, why not go to the watchtower first, then?”

Shrugging, Mara nodded, heading back into the desert. She found the watchtower easy enough; one of the few structures from the former grand civilization that still stood. As Mara looked out upon the vast, empty desert, scanning for a sign of movement that was not wolves or other such beastkin, she caught a glimpse of something moving, very fast.

Something distinctly Alisaie-shaped.

“Get back here!” roared Alisaie, jumping from rock-to-rock with all the grace of a Red Mage, as she chased down the white specter. With a wild leap, she charged, slicing at it with her rapier and sending the beast back to whence it came. As the sin eater dissipated into thin air, Alisaie seemed to notice her there, turning back and smiling. “So, _there_ you are. I knew you’d turn up sooner or later, but I had been hoping for _sooner._ ”

Mara shrugged, folding her arms over her chest. “It was not possible to be _sooner._ We had Garlemald to take care of.” She quickly regaled Alisaie with the little that had passed since her friend had left Eorzea. Alisiae sheathed her rapier, staring at the unchanging light sky as she took it all in.

“Fought them to a standstill, did we? That’s good for now, I suppose. The Exarch did say we did not need to worry about Garlemald for the moment, but without knowing how fast time was passing there, I couldn’t help but worry.”

“Understandable,” said Mara, carefully neutral. The Exarch, _again_. She had hoped for one conversation where he wouldn’t be brought up…

“I wanted to go back as soon as I could, you see. I think I had a few choice words for the Exarch when he first brought me here,” said Alisaie, with an impish grin. “But despite everything, we still haven’t found a way to reverse the summoning. But even if we could, we couldn’t just ignore Urianger’s vision. He may be a bit… _poetic_ …but he was very clear on what he saw. So, we put our mind off the summoning problem and instead decided to solve the mystery of how to stop the Eighth Umbral Calamity. The Exarch has been most helpful in this.”

The question was on Mara’s tongue, she desperately wanted to ask— _Do you trust the Exarch? How can you? A man that hides his face and coats himself in shadow?_ But she did not. There were more pressing questions, now. “Tesleen said you could help me understand…understand what is happening here. About Inn at Journey’s Head, and the patients.”

Alisaie’s eyes, which had near- _sparkled_ when she first saw Mara, now fell. “Oh…” she sighed, glancing away. “That is…you need to understand.” She pointed towards the shimmering crystalline wall, high in the distance. In a way, that wall reminded Mara of the Exarch and his Crystal Tower—hard, glittering, unmoving. But while the Exarch had another quality to him, that of warmth, reflections, these glimmering walls shone with not but searing light, and they seemed oddly, cold. Hurtful. Empty. “That wall of white is a remnant of the Flood. It was a colossal wave of pure Light, drowning everything in its wake. Only Norvrandt was spared…but at a cost.”

“A cost?” said Mara, watching as Alisaie looked back to the Inn.

“When a living being is exposed to such amount of light, their natural form breaks down. They are warped into mindless abominations…sin eaters. And one sin eater can plant light in other beings, _living_ beings, corrupting their aether over time until they are themselves no more. Until they become sin eaters, too.”

Mara’s mouth fell open, understanding. “Then the patients…”

Alisaie nodded grimly. “They would all become sin eaters, in the end. Tesleen and the others care for them, until the end of their days. And then they make sure they go peacefully, and not dying screaming, transforming into a monster. It is the only mercy we can give them; for once the change is wrought, it is wrought _forever._ ”

“I see…” said Mara, gazing at her feet. Then all those people she saw in the Inn, all those patients…all of them were just waiting to die. There was nothing Tesleen could do to save them, and she knew it. And yet…she wanted to comfort them anyway. Show them love and care in their last days.

“This sort of work is grim, not the thing my kind-hearted brother could’ve sat through, I’m sure…but it’s served me as a training ground, of sorts. I’ve learned a great deal about the sin eaters, and have honed my skills in the meantime. Now that you’re here, perhaps you’d like to join me?” Mara looked up at Alisaie, who was unsheathing her rapier once again. “Old times’ sake?” she gestured over to the desert beyond, where a stray sin eater had appeared.

Mouth a tight line, Mara said nothing, but retrieved the grimoire at her side. She nodded, and they both jumped into the fray.

She could use a fight right now, while she thought on what she learned.

_~~~~~_

Mara found a strange sort of calm helping out around the Inn, seeing to the patients and following Tesleen on her rounds. The patients were in various stages of corruption, the newly arrived still alert, and aware, but some of the others that were father along, their skin was white, looked of plaster, and they stared into the distance with their silver eyes. The worst looked close to marble statues, unseeing, unknowing, hardly even living.

Mara could think of no better mercy than putting them out of their suffering. For what life could you live, being so locked inside your own head? _If_ their thoughts were even their own, anymore…

Mara brought it up with Tesleen as they sat outside the Inn, washing the bedlinen in a large, tin tub. “The little boy,” said Mara, gesturing back inside. “Is he…?”

Tesleen looked down into the soapy waters, the everlasting light reflecting searing sunbeams back from the tub. “Halric,” she sighed. “He is…I don’t think he has much time left.”

Mara plunged another long sheet into the tub, the fabric billowing and bunching up as she forced it in with her bare hands, her long gloves set aside. “How long has he been here?”

“Long enough,” said Tesleen, scrubbing the sheets on a washboard. “He is…he _was_ such a friendly, bubbly boy when he first came here. Questioning everything, so inquisitive. He brought laughter and delight to everyone’s eyes, playing in the center of the room with a little top be brought with him. But over time, his laughter ceased, and he stopped questioning…stopped playing. Now that top sits at his bedside, forgotten. I call his name, try to talk to him, but I do not think he recognizes his own name, anymore.” She looked down, taking a hard swallow. “They all get like that, before…before the end.”

Mara could say nothing, helping to bundle the sodden sheets as droplets of water splashed about the tub, onto her clothes, her face. “How you manage it?” asked Mara, staring at the woman as she continued her work solemnly. “How can you have strength to…to ease the passing?”

Tesleen didn’t look back at her. “Because someone has to,” she whispered.

It was all she had to say.

The continued in silence for awhile; the sloshing of the water, the push-pull of the fabric as air bubbles fought free reminded Mara of her days long, long ago in the Steppe. Everyone from the tribe working together to wash the linen, to tend to the mending. Girls sitting together, spinning wool, learning how to weave blankets. Men tanning hides, cutting leather. Watching the flock, tending to the horses. Everyone working together for a common goal—the furtherment of the tribe.

How long had it been since Mara had felt like this, had felt a _part_ of something? Though she was with the Scions, she always felt…different, in a way. She was the Warrior of Light, the worker of miracles. She would always be in a different tier, set apart from her friends. But Tesleen didn’t know that, Tesleen only knew her as Alisaie’s friend, and here, one friend was as good as another.

There was a comfort in that. _Here, in the First, I am Mara,_ only _Mara._ She gave a sad smile. _Exactly what I wanted._

“Ah, there you are!” called Alisaie. Mara turned her head back, seeing the young Elezen walk up to them both. “I was wondering…is there anything that needs doing, Tesleen? I daresay I killed every eater for malms around, so I’m itching to do something.”

Without looking back at her, Tesleen, carefully folded up the sheet to be set upon the rack for drying. “Yes, there is. It’s about the time for the caravan to pass through Mord Souq. If you were to go to the markets, you could pick up some supplies, and also some fresh fruit. Ask Rhon Ron for a nectarine…he should be keeping one aside for me.” After a pause, Tesleen turned back to Mara. “You can go too, if you like. It should be more entertaining than washing linens.”

There was something in the way Tesleen had asked for the nectarine, but Mara didn’t press it. “All right,” said Mara, pulling her arms from the tub. A quick dry off and her gloves came back on, and she stood up, following Alisaie to the main road.

_~~~~~_

“Why one nectarine?” asked Mara, the question she had wanted to ask almost ever since they left the Inn at Journey’s Head. “Just the one?”

Alisaie didn’t look back at her as the climbed to the top of the windmill; looked out at the empty landscape of Amh Araeng. “I always like coming up here, whenever I come to Mord Souq,” she said, standing near the edge of the platform, gazing out upon the hazy, dusty landscape. “Everything looks so small, so insignificant up here…and yet every person down there is their own life, with their own thoughts. It just shows that no matter how much we may think of ourselves, we are but small drops in a larger oceans…”

Mara stood back, listened as Alisaie mused. The Exarch had said she had been here for almost a year, hadn’t she? She certainly had changed in the meantime. Still brash and bold-headed as ever, but somehow…older. _Wiser._

“That nectarine we bought? That’s Halric’s favorite fruit,” said Alisaie, without looking back.

Mara gasped, glanced at the bag at her side where they had stored their wares. “You mean, that…?”

Alisaie swallowed hard. “Yes. It is too late for him now. It has to be done. That way, they can go to their rest with the taste of their favorite food on their lips, even if they cannot truly taste it anymore. They really have no other choice… _Tesleen_ has no other choice. The nectarine will be a kindness.” Alisiae’s fingers tensed a bit on the rapier at her side. “I’ve seen what happens when they leave it too late…I had to release the soul with my own sword—with my own _hands_! No one…No one should have such a death, not like that.”

“It should not have been you,” Mara said, stepping closer. “Someone could have—”

“ _Who_ , then?” Alisaie asked, throwing her arms wide. “ _Who?_ Who else has a chance to stand against the sin eaters, who can kill them before they do harm? No, it was _me—_ this whole time, it’s been _only_ me.”

“Does not _have_ to be just you, not anymore,” Mara gave her a smile. “I am here now, I can help.” She placed a hand on the smaller girl’s shoulder; Alisaie waited a moment before looking back, meeting the smile.

“Thank you, Mara. This means…I am glad of it.” The smile became mischievous. “You know, I really did feel guilty about leaving you on that battlefield, I am afraid I took it out on the Exarch at first.”

Mara’s eyebrows raised—and yet she smiled all the same. Now _this_ was a story she wanted to hear. “Really?”

“Oh, yes,” Alisaie laughed, her laughter a wonderful sound compared to the somberness of the conversation before. “I think I startled him, poor man, when I awoke here and rambled about how he needed to send me back. I was ready to fight him with my _bare hands_ if I had to, and he had to conjure one of his barriers just to keep me away! Of course, I calmed down in the end, but it felt _good_ to know I caused my summoner that much discomfort in the beginning.”

 _Ah,_ now they came to it, the thoughts that had haunted Mara these past few days. “What you think of the Exarch?” asked Mara, _carefully_. “Do you trust him?”

Before she answered, Alisaie gave her a challenging gaze. “What did my brother tell you?”

“He said he thought Exarch was sincere in wanting to save First. Save _us._ That he hides immense power…and that Exarch reminded him of your grandfather.”

“Hmph. Sounds like Alphinaud. So sentimental.” Alisaie turned back to the landscape, folding her arms across her chest. “He has the right of it, I think…For all his shadowy ways, I do think the Exarch does want what’s best for this place. He has never given me a reason to think otherwise.” She cast a sideways glance back at Mara. “But you don’t trust him, do you?”

“I…don’t know,” she admitted, biting her lip as she tried to form the words. “I think…he is kind. Certainly powerful but…he hides something. I mean…more than face.”

“Why _do_ you think he is hiding his face, though?” mused Alisaie. “Perhaps he is extremely ugly?”

“I do not think that is—”

“Or… _oh!_ I know! He has that crystal all up his arm, doesn’t he? Perhaps it’s taken over his head—maybe the whole top of it is crystal, like some sort of statue! Maybe he’s bald and doesn’t want anyone seeing—”

“ _Alisaie!_ That is—!” Damnit, now that she had put that vision in Mara’s head, how could she _not_ see it?

“ _Well_ , it must be for some reason. He wouldn’t be hiding his face unless there was something he didn’t want us to see.”

“…Yes, that is obvious.”

Alisaie chuckled. “Well, that is a mystery for another time. Perhaps the Exarch will show his unhooded self yet. If it was to anyone, he would show his true self to you. Come on, we should hurry back—get that nectarine to Tesleen.

Mara nodded, reminded of their grim work set ahead of them. But as she walked back from Mord Souq, she couldn’t quite forget Alisaie’s words…

_“If it was to anyone, he would show his true self to you…”_

_~~~~~_

Tesleen sat down at the table, sighing; looking aged in mind much more than her years. “It is done. Whenever he feels like eating, he will be…the nectarine is waiting for him.”

The three of them sat in silence, finishing the last dregs of the stew Tesleen made for them as they had gone to Mord Souq. It was a heavy thing, to carry the burden of what must be done, but do it they must. Tesleen knew this, Alisaie knew this, Mara knew this…

It didn’t make it any easier.

“I remember when I first came here with my mother,” said Tesleen, breaking the silence. Leaning on her elbows on the table, she continued, “She was showing the early signs then. I knew there was no way to save her, but at the time I couldn’t…I couldn’t face what needed to be done. That’s the way of it for most people here—why they travel malms and malms just to stay here. By then, they are beaten, broken souls come to wait out the inevitable. To receive the mercy of a painless death.”

Mara swallowed hard, looking at the ground. A painless death…was that all they could offer them? For all her strength as Warrior of Light…she could do naught but sit by and watch as light devoured these people in front of her.

For a Warrior of Light was useless against an onslaught of light.

“When my mother finally left this world, I was mad with grief, but I was thankful that her passing was a peaceful one; that someone had been there to take care of her, to grant her that peace. So that was why I decided to stay; to take care of others as the carers had taken care of her.”

Mara watched as Tesleen spoke of her mother, of the harsh truth of life she had learned so young. Mara’s mother had died so long ago that sometimes, it was hard recalling her face. The necklace that had once been lost was the only thing that remained of her, now…most of Mara’s life had been without her. What would it have been like, if she had been in Tesleen’s place? Had been old enough to understand, to watch her mother waste away? How would she have borne it? Tesleen had seen that horror, had known what sort of creature her mother could turn into, and she had held her head up high anyway—and had devoted her life to make sure others saw the same compassion.

Tesleen was strong indeed—perhaps stronger than Mara had ever been.

“It’s never easy, ending a life you’ve cared for. Even when you believe they go to a better place.” Tesleen chuckled for a moment, looking away. “Sometimes I wish the Warrior of Darkness would come and do that part for me.”

Mara’s violet eyes flicked up to Tesleen’s, caught on that phrase. She could remember _a_ Warrior of Darkness, one who now haunted her Crystarium inn rooms… “The Warrior of Darkness?”

“Oh, you’ve never heard the tale?” Tesleen gave a smile at that. “Every child in Norvrandt could tell you a version of it. _Warrior of Darkness, servant of death, take care of our souls at our dying breath….Let sinners and eaters of sin go with thee, that all may return to the sunless sea…_ Well, that’s what I was taught. It’s an old bedtime story—for all we’ve done here, he’s certainly never thought to come visit.”

Alisaie leaned back in her chair, arms folded across her chest. “He sounds rather ominous.”

“You think so?” Tesleen looked up, up, to the very top of the Inn at Journey’s Head, to the tiny shaft of light wafting down from the glittering skies above. “I always liked that he treated every soul the same, even the sin eaters. For in death, we are all the same, are we not? Rich and poor, good and evil…No more distinctions or class. We all meet our end on the same slate…and hopefully, that slate is a better place than here…” Turning her eyes away, she sighed once more, closing them. “At least, that is what I have to believe.”

A silence settled over them, as they mused upon these thoughts. Mara wanted to ask about this “Warrior of Darkness” that Tesleen spoke of. It didn’t _sound_ like Ardbert; Tesleen made it out like it was something else entirely, some force of nature…

“Tesleen!” screamed one of the caregivers, running up to them. All turned to her as she stood there, white-hot panic in her eyes. “Have you seen Halric?! I took my eyes off him for a second and—”

Mara’s blood ran cold. Halric had seemed rather lethargic before; almost unknowing to the world around him. For him to escape that fast…

Tesleen shot up from the table, nearly knocking over the now-empty bowl of stew. “Quickly! We have to find him!”

_~~~~~_

Though Mara and Alisaie ran all over southern Amh Araeng, they saw no sign of the boy. He was white as a ghost, surely he would stand out? Alisaie had hopped onto high bluffs while Mara scoured around the low rocks, but they hadn’t even found a hint to where he might be.

“No luck, then?” said Alisaie, as they met up after the futile search. “He can’t have gone far, he must be around here somewhere!”

“No, have not seen him,” said Mara, putting her grimoire back at her side. “But I _have_ seen a lot of sin eaters.”

Alisaie nodded. “They are out in force now, more than I’ve ever seen. If we don’t find him soon, then—”

Alisaie went silent as a shadow fell over them, a _large_ shadow. Mara looked up—gasped at the white menace that flew overhead. It was white as marble, as graceful as a statue as it flapped in the air, but it came with a sense of dread, a sense of _wrongness_ , and though high above, Mara could tell it was larger than any other sin eater she had seen thus far.

“By the Twelve, do you see the size of that thing?” Alisaie gasped. “I have never seen the like…wherever its going, trouble can’t be far behind.”

“Then we go after it!” Mara nodded to her, as they sprinted across the desert sands, following in the sin eater’s shadow. The sin eaters had been no bother before, hardly straying into this territory, so why were they all coming out now? Why had this _thing_ appeared? What could’ve possibly drawn them out, made them show themselves _now?_

She had her answer when they stood upon a large sand dune, looking down, down…down to see Halric standing before the sin eater, as if in it’s thrall.

Alisaie skittered to a stop next to Mara, sliding and scattering sand all around her. “No! Halric!”

But they were too far away—too far to do anything but watch—Halric looked up at the eater, his face neutral, his eyes unseeing, as the sin eater raised its sword, ready to strike; ready to _command._

_“Halric!”_

There was a flash; the sin eater _screamed_ , and a splash of white blood burst from the eater’s side. There, appearing out of nowhere, was Tesleen, her steel short-sword held high. She raced toward Halric, grabbing the boy by the shoulders, shaking him, trying to _will_ him to understand—“We have to run!”

But the eater was not yet destroyed—and it was _angry_.

A sickening slice and a splash of blood—except now the blood was _red._

“Oh, Gods, _No!”_ screamed Alisaie, crying out as Tesleen fell to her knees, the sin eater’s sword running her through. A bolt of ice-cold terror jolted through Mara as she saw Alisaie draw her rapier, ready to pounce, to _defend_ , to take revenge—

Mara wouldn’t watch as _she_ went to her death, too.

Mara wrenched Alisaie back, yanking the smaller girl against her, holding her tight as Alisaie squirmed and fought and cried—They were forced to watch as Tesleen fell, murmuring _something_ on the wind…and then the _change_ happened.

Wild, horrific screams came from the girl as her body pulsed a blinding white, her voice contorted and the screams becoming bestial screeches. Her back flayed open, grisly, spindly wings bursting forth with a splash of that ghastly white blood. She writhed and wailed as her body stretched longer, longer, like a doll being ripped at the seams, crying out in the agonizing pain as she _changed_ , as she _died,_ until at last…at last…

The sin eater fell silent.

Mara was reminded of another time, years ago, when she herself had been the one held back—fighting against all reason to go to a friend’s side. When she finally released Alisaie, the girl having fought her to near bruising, the young Elezen could do nothing but collapse on her knees, head in her hands, weeping. Mara knelt by her side, a hand on her back, offering support, the only thing she could do.

She knew all too well the pain of being forced to watch someone you cared about die.

Though Mara could not say why, the large sin eater left Halric alone, flying back into the wilds. As what was once Tesleen flew overhead, Mara thought she heard a voice on the wind. “ _Forgive me…Alisaie…”_

As it flew away, the wingbeats becoming fainter and fainter in the distance, there was no other sound on the desert sands but Alisaie’s quiet sobs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to see more great ffxiv fic, join our [bookclub](https://discord.gg/enabling-debauched-xivfic)!


	4. Holminster Switch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An attack on Holminster Switch means its time to take the Lightwardens seriously...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: suicidal thoughts because the Exarch is a big ball of sads.

“This is…?” Mara gasped as she opened the package from Katliss, staring at the contents within. It was a dress, brand new, made up in a style similar to her traveling clothes. Mara had been fond of the new Ishgardian fashions; of pinstriped, ruffled, longer-in-the-back skirts, accented by leather corsets and long boots. Her usual outfit had been made with travel in mind, of heavy fabric and leather that resisted the dust and dirt of the road. This dress was similar in shape, with the ruffles and the skirt, but was made of lighter, wispier fabric—the ruffles seemed to bounce, the beige and tan material smooth on her fingers. A smaller, more decorative corset accented the low-neckline bodice; and while the dress was not as travel-hardy as her other clothes, it was a magnificent imitation.

Katliss smiled warmly, “The Exarch said you were in a similar position to many of the refugees, and they often have to leave with naught but the clothes on their backs. We thought we’d give you a helping hand, to welcome you to the Crystarium.”

Mara felt her cheeks flush as she folded the dress up, pressed the package to her chest. “I…I can only thank you. But if you let me—I know of all have to work here, for betterment of Crystarium. I can sew myself—give me things to sew to pay you back for this…and in payment for other things I might need in future.”

“Oh, if you’re a seamstress, that’s wonderful! We are always in need of more clothes, blankets…what else can you do?” Katliss leaned forward on her desk on the Crystalline Mean, near _leering_ at her.

“Uh, well, just sewing, I am afraid,” Mara shrugged. “I can sew leather to clothes but for making boots and such, I do not have talent.”

“We’ve got a big order for amauro blankets, if you’re up for it.” Katliss jotted down something on a notepad. “Should be simple enough, yes?”

Mara nodded. “Yes, that would be…would be perfect.” She had learned to sew and mend clothes back in the Steppe, but for large bulk orders, neat, straight stiches seemed like the perfect way to ease into it.

“Good! And in return? Is there anything you’d like to put in an order for, in exchange?”

Mara thought a moment. “Long boots, perhaps? To go with dress? And, maybe if I earn it…” Her fingers tightened on the dress in her arms. “If you have good leatherworker on hand? Something like this.” She leaned over the desk, picking up the pencil and made a rough sketch.

_~~~~~_

Scout reports, paperwork, and whisperings of Eulmore ran around in the Exarch’s head as he climbed the steps to the Baldaquin. It had been a long day, and after the report of what had transpired in Amh Araeng…he just wanted some peace and quiet for a while. He could get that in the Ocular, yes, but he did love the view of Lakeland from above. Though bathed in that ethereal light, the violet trees swayed far below, the Source lake shimmered and shone in the golden light. Though the light was a blight on this land, it had a haunting, eerie sort of beauty. The Exarch had hoped that such a view would give him that solitude, that time alone to think, but…

When he ascended to the landing, he found someone already there.

Even when she was in shadow, he recognized her small form instantly, from that signature ponytail to the way her scaled tail twitched and swished every now and then like a Mystel’s. She sat with a large amount of drab green fabric pooled in her lap, hands moving with the rhythmic push and pull of the needle.

She must’ve heard him; she angled her head to look back over her shoulder. “Ah, I didn’t realize anyone was up here,” the Exarch said, trying to calm the quickening pace of his heart.

“It is nice view,” said Mara by way of explanation, looking back out to Lakeland.

The Exarch stepped closer, sitting down at her side. “It is one of my favorite places in the Crystarium,” he replied, smiling. “Though it is more of a watchtower, it does give spectacular views.”

“Mmm,” she replied, looking down at the fabric in her lap. The Exarch remembered a moment long, long ago, when he had walked into her tent in Mor Dhona. It had been similar then, with fabric in her lap, sewing away, but also signing a song in Xaellic. She had been sewing a replica of ancient Allagan summoning garments, if he recalled. He vaguely wondered what happened to them.

Though, he remembered her song the most, the way she had sung of love in another language, the way her eyes locked with his…and how that was the moment he had tipped over the precipice, and had fallen so deeply, _helplessly_ in love.

“What are you working on?” he asked, not wanting to let his expression betray him.

Mara held the fabric up, aligning the pieces. “Amauro blankets for Rookery,” she said at once, brows furrowing as she straightened it again. “For Crystalline Mean. They said everyone in Crystarium needs to work, so…”

“You—you do not need to do so!” The Exarch stammered. “You have done much, and I daresay you will do more, it is no trouble to—”

“I _want_ to,” Mara cut him off, drawing out the needle once more. In, and out, a mesmerizing rhythm. “I _want_ to help to pay back for kindness. Besides, I can not sit idle. Not after…not after Amh Araeng.”

The Exarch’s ears lowered under his hood. “Ah, yes.” He had heard all about that incident. “How is young Alisaie?”

“Sad,” replied Mara. “She…she lost good friend. I know how that feels…to watch someone you care about die and unable to do anything about it.”

He gulped, his mouth suddenly feeling dry. He folded and re-folded his hands in his lap, trying to keep them there—to appear casual. She couldn’t be talking about…could she? “I see. That must’ve been…must’ve been traumatic.”

Mara gave a small noise of affirmation, falling silent once more. Silences always did like hanging heavy between them. The Exarch wondered if that was all she would say, leaving him wondering…But before he could formulate a way to ask, could _chastise himself_ for wanting to ask, she looked over and asked _him,_ “Have you lost someone, Exarch? Someone you truly cared about?”

“Someone I truly cared about?” He repeated, his fingers clenching on his robes to keep them from fidgeting too much. Much as he would like to offer some sagely, mentor-ly advice…he couldn’t lie about this. “I did…” he said, voice low, almost in a whisper. “In—in the Flood.” It wasn’t _entirely_ a lie. “She— _They—_ When I lost them, it felt like…it felt like my entire world had ended. Like I would never be happy again. I wanted to shut myself away, sleep forever and ever but…I could not. I had to move forward, despite all the pain. Remembering them, every little detail it was like—it was my motivation for everything. For—for all this.” He gestured to the city around them. “I built this place as a refuge, a sanctuary so no one would suffer what I had. So, it would not—so it would not happen again.”

She didn’t reply as he finished, just stared down at her sewing. Anxiety curdled in the Exarch’s gut. Had he perhaps said too much? He tried to be as vague as possible but…but some part of him still wanted to reach out, to take her hand and tell her the truth, _I wanted to die when I found out you were dead. And so I devoted my entire life, my entire_ being _to keep it from happening. I did it_ all _for you, and I would happily do it again and again._

“If only I had the strength,” Mara murmured, finally, keeping her violet eyes on her sewing as if meeting his gaze would burn her. “I have lost many and every time I…I wanted to curl up and just—just stay put. Forever. Sometimes took days of suffering, mourning before I could stand up and walk forward again. When you were mourning, you chose to _create_. I could only stand still, paralyzed.”

The Exarch didn’t know how to respond to that, the soft praise. And she wasn’t entirely correct, but he couldn’t very well say, _I was going to shut myself in the tower forever, hoping to die to join you when I learned of your fate_ , could he? “You seem to have moved on. The one you spoke of, before—”

Mara nodded. “I watched him die and could do nothing…I thought of it every single day, reliving that moment wondering what I could do to change it, to stop it happening and yet...”

“There was nothing you could’ve done if that was what he wanted,” The Exarch said, trying to retroactively comfort her. “It was his choice, and—”

“A spear of light piercing his body was not his choice,” snapped Mara, shoving the needle back into the fabric.

“…Yes…” The Exarch cursed himself mentally, feeling his face flush up in embarrassment. _Lord Haurchefant Greystone. I read of this in Count Edmont's memories..._ _Lovesick Fool! You aren’t the only one she’s lost—not the only one with a claim on her heart._

“Perhaps trying to protect me was his choice…but he did not know what fate awaited him when he raised shield.”

“You must’ve cared deeply for him,” the Exarch said, his voice thicker than it should’ve been, hoping she couldn’t sense the disappointment in his voice. “To still mourn him now.”

Mara sighed, shaking her head slightly. “Haurchefant was…is a regret, yes. A path that perhaps, I could…Well, I will never know. I have lost many, Exarch. Seen many friends leave me…he was not even worst.”

The Exarch’s eyes snapped back to her. _Don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t ask—_ “And…of the worst?” He should’ve just kept his mouth shut; she had every right to tell him off, to tell him to mind his own business and—

Whether she could sense it or not, he didn’t know, but she kept her gaze on the needle and thread as she whispered, “There was…before Lord Haurchefant there was someone else was close to…very close. We knew each other for weeks, few short months and then…then he left. _Was_ his choice and yet I…” She paused, her fingers stilling on the fabric.

The Exarch couldn’t breathe.

“I felt I had lost everything I ever wanted…ever _would_ want. I did not know how to go on…Just wanted him back, no matter cost.” She closed her eyes, breathing deep. “I keep telling myself I should forget him, let him go, move on and yet…”

She didn’t finish, though the Exarch hung on to her every word like a man starved.

Mara shook her head, her ponytail flapping behind her. “Oh, what does it matter now?” Standing up abruptly, she rolled the fabric up, tucking it under her arms. “Thank you for chat, Exarch.”

He stood up as she turned to leave but he called out, his hand twitching to reach for her. “This man you spoke of? Did you…did you ‘truly care’ for him, too?”

Mara glanced back over her shoulder, violet eyes wide, mouth slightly open in surprise. She didn’t seem alarmed or insulted; to the Exarch it looked like…like she had never considered it before. “I…I do not know,” she whispered, before turning away and heading back down the stairs. 

_~~~~~_

Mara recalled that encounter several times over the next couple of days. For all his secrecy, the Exarch had revealed much about himself during that conversation, much more than Mara thought he would. He had lost someone, someone dear to him, so he strove to remake the world so no one would ever know such pain. It was a noble goal, an _honest_ goal—and while Mara often suspected there was much the Exarch was omitting, she could sense no lies in his tone. He had turned his grief into an enduring love, a way to make sure his beloved was remembered, despite their loss.

Mara’s grief had always been an anchor around her neck, weighing her down and paralyzing her—she wished she knew his secret to turning grief into something better, something _beautiful._

Even so… _He lost someone in the Flood, didn’t he?_ Mara wondered, pondering over the matter as she and the twins stood in the Ocular as the Exarch spoke to them of the thirteen shards. _If that is the case…just how old is he? He calls himself an old man, but he doesn’t exactly look…_ Her eyes wandered to the arm bared by his robe, adorned with leather straps, revealing a hard, muscular figure…

“Yes, well, any questions?” said the Exarch, snapping Mara back to the present. The twins both glanced at her, as if sensing she had been lost in her own musing.

“Erm, no,” she said quickly, face flushed, unable to look at the Exarch’s shadowed gaze.

“Good, then you understand our problem,” said the Exarch, slamming the floor with his cane, a metallic ring sounding out. The vision of the thirteen shards faded from view. “If we are to restore balance to the First and head off a calamity, it is imperative that we put each and every Lightwarden to the sword. Though the Lightwardens are perpetually elusive, hiding from our watchful gaze. Moreover, they possess a troublesome quality which compelled us to delay our plans until you arrived. That is—”

The door to the Ocular burst open. Captain Lyna, panting slightly, ran in. “Forgive me, my Lord,” she said between breaths. “But our scouts have arrived, the few that made it out, anyway. Holminster Switch is requesting reinforcements! Sin eaters are attacking in force, and the village could soon be overrun if we do not—”

“Alert the guard,” the Crystal Exarch said at once, stepping forward. “We should be prepared in case the fighting reaches the Crystarium. Alert the Crystalline Mean as well; I expect we will have many refugees arriving soon.”

“Very good my Lord.” Lyna straightened up, giving a Crystarium salute. “Shall I rally the forces to make for the village?”

“Make ready, but hold off entering the town until I arrive.”

Alisaie turned to Mara, battle lust in her gaze. “We’ll meet you there.” And with a nod to Alphinaud, both twins dashed out of the Ocular, Lyna heading off right after.

Mara did not run off right away, instead she hung back as the Exarch did. She needed to ask… “You intend to fight as well, Exarch?”

He gave her a look, some mixture of pride and…haughtiness. As if he was surprised she asked that question. “They are _my_ people,” he said, standing almost taller because of it. “Should I not?”

Mara glanced away, mentally chastising herself. The man was _years_ older than her, had faced sin eaters for longer than perhaps she’d been alive—of _course_ he had to be a skilled fighter, a capable warrior—one look at his arms proved that. Those he wore the robes of a mage, carried a staff, he clearly had seen combat before. Perhaps they were the arms of a practiced swordsman, or an archer—

“That is a question I should be asking _you_ ,” the Exarch said, his fingers relaxing on the grip on his staff. “After all, this is not your world. I should be the one begging you to lend us your strength.”

Mara felt her face flush again. “I…I can’t turn away when people are in danger!” she sputtered, casting a sideways glance at him. He was smiling…he was _enjoying_ this.

“Nor can I,” he said, the mirthful, teasing smile falling. “Now, let us get moving. If the sin eaters are out in force, that can only mean one thing; a Lightwarden.”

_~~~~~_

“It is a swarm unlike I have seen in recent years. We did our best to evacuate, but more than half the villagers remain,” said Lyna, putting aside her chakrams as they stared at the gate leading to the village.

“How convenient. It seems we’ll have our chance to slay a Warden sooner than expected,” said Alisaie, grinning as she unsheathed her rapier.

Lyna shook her head. “One does not simply ‘kill a Lightwarden’. It can be struck down, aye, but the essence will billow outwards, and envelop the next nearest living being—a reckless young swordswoman, perhaps—and turn her into a brand new Lightwarden.”

“Leave that particular quandary to us,” said the Exarch, still smiling as if this was nothing more than a discussion of the weather. “We must ask the guard stand down and allow us to engage the eaters alone. We cannot let anyone else get caught up in the fray. Concentrate on the survivors—we must save every life we can. Captain, if you could lead the survivors to the Crystarium—”

“ _No,_ my Lord,” said Lyna, stepping closer. It was now that Mara noticed the woman _towered_ over him, a formidable being in his own right. “I will not watch you brave such danger without an escort. I insist that I go with you.”

The man sighed, “Lyna…” His shoulders slumped somewhat, as if he knew he could not talk his way out of this. “Very well, if you insist. Then our Lightwarden slaying party shall include myself, the Leveilleurs, Captain Lyna, and last but not least…” He turned back to Mara, giving her a smile. “Quite the formidable group, wouldn’t you say?”

Mara moved a hand to her grimoire. She knew of the twins’ strength, and of her own, but the Exarch and Captain Lyna…she hoped they could keep up.

The Crystal Exarch stepped toward the gate, his black robes billowing in aetheric breeze. Even this far away, Mara could sense…something, in the air. It gave off that vague sense of nothingness, of _wrongness_ , and yet, the Exarch didn’t even flinch. “Into Holminster we go,” he said, holding out his hand as light coalesced and glowed.

Mara had expected him to follow her from behind. She did _not_ expect him to summon a _sword and shield from pure aether_ and charge ahead in front.

There was so much, still, she didn’t know about this man.

The tangled woods were dark; the shrill, eerie shrieks in the air as sin eaters hunted their quarry. Striking branches and cutting tangling brambles they went, charging up the winding path until sin eaters were upon them. Striking white bears, stinging, sinuous spiders, the light oozed forth and infected every forest creature it could find. With shield in hand, the Exarch charged, beating back the beasts as the others stood behind him, fighting on. One by one they slayed the monsters, their bodies dissipating on the air as they fell. Through brush and tree and web the Exarch’s sword sliced, until they came to the village at last…and one of the eaters was waiting for them.

“That!” Alisaie gasped, her rapier lowering as she stared at the beast before them. “That’s the monster we saw in Amh Araeng. The monster that…” she faltered, her voice wavering. “Is that the Lightwarden?”

Mara held her grimoire aloft, the arcane patterns at the ready, the power of the egis at her command. But when she stilled, she felt it…another power beyond, another _stronger_ force, calling to them in the distance. “No,” said Mara, fingers clenching on the arcane book. “But it will not hurt anyone else!”

They charged at it, the sin eater’s sword clanging on the Exarch’s shield as they fought. It was large, but it was slow; its swings easy to dodge, easy to counter by any competent fighter. But the blows were heavy, the Exarch’s aetheric shield straining with the force as he held it aloft. But never did he step back, never did he stumble—he protected them as they fought, until the very end. With one final swipe of Mara’s egi of fire, the eater let out a terrible scream as it fell, bursting into droplets of light.

“Is everyone all right?” called Alphinaud, as he ran over to Alisaie. She steadied herself as she stood up, exhaustion and relief on her face.

Mara took a glance over at the Exarrch to see if he was all right—he had been the one blocking all those blows—but he only raised his sword once more and took the lead as if he wasn’t even tired.

Not really an old man, not really a mage…who was he?

Up the hill and past the farmlands—now the livestock themselves charged at them, changed by the light’s corruption. Raging white bulls and screeching animals—it was almost pitiful, having to cut them down. But cut them down they must. With wave after wave, the Exarch’s sword swung, slicing through the lesser eaters like they were nothing. Mara summoned an egi of wind to take care of the smaller ones, blowing them out of the way until they were ready to handle them. Alisaie lit up the rest with her red mage spells; Lyna taking care of any that escaped to the rear wit her chakrams. They moved fast, efficient, never stopping for a moment, until…

“Another eater!” said Alphinaud as they ran into the square. “But this one is…different?”

Mara’s blood ran cold as she recognized that sin eater. She glanced at Alisaie, who remained on the threshold as the others stepped forward. “So, this is where you went,” she said softly, pulling herself together.

When Alisaie stepped in line with the rest, rapier drawn, her eyes were hard, determined. She knew what they must do, and so she would make sure to do it herself.

The thing that had once been Tesleen screeched and flew at them, but the fight was much easier than the first sin eater they fought. It was almost as if…as if Tesleen didn’t want to hurt them, after all this time. Her charges were weak, telegraphing where she would go before she did it. When she cried out, white, burning blood bursting forth, it landed haphazardly to the side, not on her attackers. The Exarch was able to parry her claws with ease, her slashes hardly a trifle, but she struggled and cried and writhed to the very end.

And in that end, it was Alisaie who dealt the final blow, piercing her heart with one swift thrust.

The thing that had been Tesleen _screamed_ , wailed and then…then slowly furled in on itself, like a child curling up to sleep. When it finally fell still, the face had its eyes closed, the final expression almost peaceful as it dissolved away on the wind.

When Alisaie stood up again, wiping a tear from her eye, Alphinaud came up to her, worry on his face. “Are you going to be all right?”

“I’m fine, Alphinaud,” she said, turning away.

“But—”

“I said I’m _fine!_ ” she snapped, walking across the courtyard. “There are still more people here we need to evacuate, yes? Let’s go!”

The village square was the worst, the place _swarming_ with sin eaters. People screamed and ran past them, but those that couldn’t make it writhed with pain as the whiteness, the infernal light took them. “We have to grant them mercy,” said the Exarch, his voice hard, unwavering. Though his command was harsh, Mara knew it was necessary; grant those cursed a quick death so they would not hurt any others.

They charged into the courtyard, striking sin eater and light cocoon alike. If they could slice the cocoon through before the change completed, those unfortunate occupants would die instantly, granting them that mercy they deserved. But as for the others, for those they had been too late to stop—the final soldiers in the army came at them, and they were ready to meet them. With every slash of his sword, every bash of his shield, Mara wondered if it affected the Exarch, knowing he was fighting his own people. Knowing he was _killing_ his own people. But he did not hesitate a moment to pierce with his sword, to deal the final blow.

No, they were not his people now, not anymore. He must think of those that they could still save—just as she must.

_For those we have lost…for those we can yet save._

Up the final hill they fought, leaving disappearing sin eater corpses in their wake. That raw power was growing with each step, that unbearable nothingness reaching out to taint the aether around—and when they turned a corner, when there were no more sin eaters left to fight, they saw _it_ —the thing that had brough them here in the first place.

“Ready yourselves,” said the Exarch, his voice low, serious. “We stand in the presence of a Lightwarden.”

It was a hideous thing, but it was _enormous_. A wide, sinister grin was on its face, its grasping hands reaching toward them, as if eager to devour them whole. Its legs were warped and useless, the whole thing wreathed in chains, as if it was _something_ that had been tied up, now broken free. Whatever it was, Mara could sense the power from it, the _wrongness_. It was this thing they’d have to kill to end it all.

Their quarry now exposed, they fell on it like hunters on their prey. It fought back harder than ever, slamming its fists into the ground to throw up a wave of earth. It swung the chains around like a whip as they dodged, the chains smacking and rebounding off the Exarch’s shield. It flaired around its tail, swiping at the ground as they ran out of the way, hiding underneath a barrier that Alphinaud called forth. Another screech, another scream—Mara’s egi of fire burned it to the core as it flailed its fists, Alisaie’s magic lighting it up with swift blows. The exarch slashed and stabbed as Lyna sliced with her chakrams, and finally, finally it wailed, as if crying out to the heavens when it slid back, and fell still.

They didn’t have a chance to catch their breath as Lyna tried to pull them back. “Quickly! It is releasing its aether, fall back!”

The beast was dissolving, its form starting to shrink and shine. Though it was supposed to be dangerous, the sense of _wrongness_ was gone. Instead, the power felt almost…pleasant. Light, like the warmth of a sunny day. Mara did not know how, but she was drawn to it, like a moth to a flame.

“That will not be necessary, Captain,” she heard the Exarch say behind her. “The light of these creatures has confounded us for a hundred years; for each one we have put down, another has risen up in it’s place. But now, we have a way to contain that corruption.”

Perhaps it was the Echo, perhaps it was Hydaelyn…something kept her walking forward, kept her stretching out to call to the light, to _beckon_ it forth—

“The blessing of light, and the hero who wields it now stands before you!”

The light gently faded into her form and it _was_ warm, down to her very soul. But she did not feel changed, did not feel different at all. She just felt…

Like Mara.

 _Just_ Mara.

Lifting up her hand, Mara felt a faint tingle in her fingertips. And though she did not know how, she knew exactly what to do. Stretching out to those gleaming, glowing skies above, she reached up, up—and _pushed._

Light _slammed_ into light, pushing and pulling and twisting and turning and—

Darkness broke free.

“The monster’s power is broken! And the world twisted by its touch returns to its rightful form!”

A sliver of dark, and then a wide valley— _stars_ , beautiful shimmering stars came into view as the light separated, receded, and then faded away.

When Mara turned back, eyes adjusting to the sudden dark, Lyna was staring up, jaw dropped in awe. “Is that…?” she breathed, her chakrams falling to her sides in shock. It occurred to Mara that she had never _seen_ the night sky before now— _none_ on the First had.

And now that Mara could look upon it for the first time in days, perhaps a week—she could concede that the night sky was beautiful. She always held an affection for those starry skies, ever since…

_A gentle touch under starry skies on another world. Holding fast to a strong chest, as soft fingertips traced her cheek, her jaw—tipping up her face to meet his lips—_

“How many years have I waited for this moment?”

Mara swung back to the present, turning to see the Crystal Exarch approach her, his aetheric sword and shield now dismissed. He came to her slowly, staring at her in awe, in almost reverence. “For the one possessed of Her blessing. For _you._ ”

He stood before her for only a moment, Mara’s looking up to meet his shadowed eyes, before he slowly sunk to his knees before her, catching her off guard. She stared as he did it, looking like a man wanting to propose. Like a knight before his lord.

Like a reverent worshipper before his goddess.

Her heart beat a rapid tempo as he continued to speak, unaware of her unease. “You have vanquished the Lightwarden of Lakeland, and for the first time in a century, darkness has returned to the mantle of night. Without the ever-present Light to sustain them, the sin eaters will have no choice but to retreat. But our victory is far from complete. Though darkness has fallen here, the other Wardens yet bask beneath burning skies, feasting upon what little life remains.”

For a moment he sighed, knowing the heavy task that lay ahead. Yet, as he looked up at her, Mara could not doubt that he thought her equal to the task. “Even should it cost me all I have, I would see each and every one of them slain, that this world might be spared from oblivion! Not only for the First, but for the Source as well! Save one, and we save the _other!_ Save _all of them_! Save—” He cut himself off, pulling himself back together after being lost in the moment. “But…I concede it was wrong of me to summon you to this fight against your will.”

He bowed his head slightly, offering as much apology as he could give. “I swear on my life, I will one day atone for that deed. But for the present…” When he looked back up at her, though cloaked, Mara _knew_ his eyes were full of emotion. “I beg you to stay and see this fight to the conclusion. Cast down the Wardens, and restore Darkness to the First!”

Before Mara could answer, Alisaie cut in. “If I may, Exarch,” she asked, folding her arms across her chest with a skeptical gaze. “There is much at stake here, Exarch. For us, and for you. Why do you risk yourself so readily? You did not need to come with us here, to slay this Lightwarden. And even before that, summoning even one person across the Rift could’ve killed you.”

The Exarch did not leave his kneeling position on the ground, merely turned to give Alisaie a mysterious smile. “I do it for my people, of course—to give the Crystarium the tomorrow it deserves.”

“That is true, _now_ , but the city had yet to be built when you first called forth the Crystal Tower. Why did you decide to do it? To commit yourself so fully to this course?”

Mara thought she could’ve answered that—he told her himself, didn’t he? He lost someone dear to him, so—

But his answer was _different_. Glancing down at the ground, the Exarch murmured, as if lost in a memory, “There are…things which we can ill afford to lose.”

 _Those words…_ They ignited a memory in Mara too, but she couldn’t quite place it…a far off place, a long time ago…words shared with another—

“And I sensed from the first I had a part to play in preserving them. There is my answer,” the Exarch said, and that was the end of it. Before Mara could muse too much on that turn of phrase, the Exarch looked back at her, that reverence returning to his voice. “Now, I ask you again—will you see this through? Will you become our Warrior of Darkness?”

Mara closed her eyes for the briefest of moments. He knew what he was asking—she had become a Warrior of Light to save Eorzea, though the Warrior had slowly taken over “Mara” until, for many, she was no longer “Mara,” despite how much she wished she could be. Becoming another warrior, for another world—this would be another part she would play. Another mask she would wear. She was already weary of being such a warrior, longing for the days when she was simply a woman. He was asking her to fight a battle that was not hers, to bear burdens that were not hers to bear…she had been brought to this world against her will, and had every right to reject it, to say no…

But though she was a Warrior of Light, darkness was in her blood; her birthright. For she was a daughter of dusk, a child of Nhaama, the night sky her domain.

It was as if this had always been fated to be.

“I will become the Warrior you need,” said Mara, extending the Exarch a hand in friendship—in _trust._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to see more great ffxiv fic, join our [bookclub](https://discord.gg/enabling-debauched-xivfic)!


	5. Warrior of Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first Lightwarden is defeated, but there is much more on the horizon before they can declare victory.

Mara had attended many celebrations of victory in her time. The Alliance victory against Gaius van Baelsar, the ceremony for Ishgard’s acceptance into the Eorzean Allaince; the victory parade after liberating Ala Mhigo. But those seemed to pale in comparison to the sheer _joy_ , the _rapture_ on those in the Crystarium when the night sky appeared for the first time in a hundred years.

Perhaps she understood it; none of them had ever seen the beauty of the night sky, of the stars glittering above. Their world was dying, and they all knew it. The Flood had decimated their star, and the sin eaters encroached more and more on what little scraps survived. But now, for once, they had a victory, they had fought back, and had _won._

It was more than just the night sky; it was a symbol of defiance, a symbol of triumph—

A symbol of _hope._

When they made their way back to the Crystarium after the trek from Holminster Switch, already they could hear the cheers in the air; the laughter, the cries of relief. People started dancing in the streets, a crowd gathered by the Dossal Gate, with ale flowing like water. Everywhere Mara looked it was exhalation, not a single frown among hundreds of smiles.

At these sorts of gatherings, Mara always found herself uncomfortably at the center (it came with the territory of being the Warrior of Light responsible for most of those miracles.) But here, while everyone attributed the return of night to his mysterious “Warrior of Darkness,” Mara found the anonymity comforting. Right now, she was no one. And she could come and go as she pleased.

She was never one to mingle; to enjoy the crowds. If not for her status as Warrior of Light, she would’ve preferred to avoid them altogether; but duty meant sometimes having to smile and wave in addition to slaying the fiercest of primals. Right now, she was free to choose what she wanted to do. And what she wanted was to have an ale, maybe, and then find a place to be alone.

Where else could she go, but the top of the tower she found the other day? The tower overlooking Lakeland had been a nice, quiet spot to sew before, but now, she wanted the comfort of the solitude. Ale mug in hand, she found her spot at the top, sitting out and looking at the view. Lakeland looked beautiful in night, the violet trees swaying in the starlight. But now, Mara turned to glance behind her; the Crystarium shone in the darkness. The Crystal Tower always glittered and glowed, but even the blueish panes of glass that made of the Crystarium reflected the starlight, the moonlight as if they were created to—this was a city of reflections, of gentle light.

While Mara had hated the Crystal Tower for years, had hated what it represented, what it took from her—even she could admit it had a quiet, gentle sort of beauty. Like a beacon, calling to all what defiance against a world of ruin could achieve.

_“…a beacon of hope to mankind…”_

There was someone climbing up the steps behind her. Mara didn’t need to turn back as she heard a familiar voice. “I would’ve thought you’d want to join the festivities; the Crystarium hasn’t seen such a celebration in years…ever, I would say.”

“Exarch,” said Mara, as the man came up next to her, giving her a soft smile. “Should you not be down there?” she asked, her fingers tensing on the mug. “It is your victory.”

“I would say it’s more your victory than mine,” he said, kneeling down next to her. Like the first time he did this, at first Mara felt uncomfortable—why was he here, anyway? There was no reason for it, none at all…unless he thought she might be here, unless he _wanted_ to speak to her…

“You are one who did this, brought it together,” Mara looked at him now, but she didn’t know why she bothered; it wasn’t like she could see anything under that dark hood. Nothing but those lips, giving her a gentle smile. “It was your plan from beginning; to bring us all together, to slay Lightwarden.”

“I admit that it was my plan from the start…it was many, many long years in the making.” The Exarch looked out across Lakeland, as if taking it all in. “For years I watched, waited; wondered if I would be able to pull it off. Could I find the one I needed, the one granted of _her_ blessing? And even if I did—would they _want_ to help? It was a plan made of so many maybes, and not a lot of certainty—but it was all I had.”

“How did you know?”

“Hmm?” replied the Exarch at the vague question.

“How did you know it was me…I would be one you needed,” said Mara, her fingers drumming on the mug. “Out of all people on this star, on _my_ world…how did you know to find _me_?”

“I…” The Exarch stopped, started again. “The Tower grants me knowledge of some events…” He said, his Spoken hand rubbing along his Crystal one. “To tell the truth, when I first looked to the cause of this star’s salvation, I knew we must need someone but I…it…It is hard to explain, I suppose,” he said, a nervous chuckle breaking through. “But when I realized I was needed of someone with Hydaelyn’s blessing, and I searched into the Rift for one such individual, I came upon you. My focus then shifted for the knowledge of how to summon you across the Rift. Perhaps I should’ve spent more time on the accuracy but…we all make mistakes.”

The ale sloshed around in her mug as Mara continued to tap her fingers. She could’ve asked for the specifics; she had spent enough time studying Allagan summoning, or learning of the Crystal Tower’s origins back with the Sons of Saint Coinach, back then…though the Exarch wanted to simplify it, she was certain if he ever decided to explain it in full, she would understand. Perhaps she would understand better than him; it wasn’t like anyone on the First knew of the Allagans, after all. But she let it go; the finer points of Allagan ingenuity wasn’t all she wanted to ask. “Still, even after you summoned me, you did not know I would cooperate.” Her eyes turned to the stars, to the shining moon above. “That I would become your Warrior of Darkness.”

“I did not, that is true, but I hoped…” His fingers, both Spoken and Crystal, clenched and unclenched at his sides as if he held himself back from saying something. “When I was waiting for the right time to summon you, the Tower gave me an insight—a view past events, as it were, even across shards. I could see the many deeds to your name, Mara Kahkol. I could see you become Warrior of Light— _why_ you became Warrior of Light. I had seen your heroic feats, aye, but I also saw your kindness; your commitment to save those who needed saving. You could not turn your back on those that needed help. And perhaps, while it was selfish for me to use those traits for my own ends, I thought—I _hoped_ —that when you saw this world, saw what became of us, you would decide to take it upon yourself to help.” There was another pause. “But I reiterate, this is all a choice. If you so choose, you can go back to the Source at any time, forget all of this; forget _us._ You are not bound to my wishes just because I summoned you.”

He was right about that—seeing this world, seeing the havoc that the light and sin eaters wreaked upon them—she could not turn away. If she did, if she ran back home, she would regret it. “I would not turn away. I could not.” Mara paused, glancing at him beside her. _“You_ knew that.”

“Well…that is to say…I hoped that…”

“It is all right,” said Mara, smiling this time.

“…And I can only thank you for it,” the Exarch said in a rush. “Thank you for agreeing—for bringing back the night.”

“No,” Mara looked up at him, this man that she knew so little about. “The thanks belongs to you, Exarch. You were one who planned it all; brought me here. Though they do not know it, it was _all_ you. I did what I could, but it is you First should thank.”

His mouth opened slightly, in surprise, perhaps? “This is but a first step—more Lightwardens remain.”

“I know,” nodded Mara. “But I think you should take more credit, Exarch, all the same.”

His hands tensed a moment, folded in his lap. “I appreciate your thoughts on the matter,” he said, neutrally.

Mara swirled the mug around for a bit, watching the ale slosh. The Exarch was being entirely too modest…perhaps there was a way to get through to him… “I think…I think she would be proud of you, Exarch.”

“ _Hmm_?”

“One you lost,” clarified Mara. “The one you built city for. If they knew what you were doing, what you had done already, unfinished as it is….they would be proud of you.”

“I…” The Exarch froze, looking like words were lost on his tongue. For as mysterious, shadowed as he was, it was clear he had _not_ expected that. “I…I hope so.” His voice cracked; emotion slipping through. “I so, _dearly_ hope so…”

It was interesting, seeing the Exarch so off-guard, but that emotion, that _longing_ in his voice…Mara understood longing for someone no longer there, all too well. Scooching towards him, Mara lifted her mug—their eyes met (at least, she thought they did) and Mara smiled, “To those we have lost,” she said, tipping her head up and draining the mug.

“And for those still here that we cannot fail,” said the Exarch, nodding his head in affirmation.

As Mara took the empty mug back in her hands, she mused, _That is similar to the Scion motto…not the same, but…_

Still, she shook her head. A coincidence, nothing more.

 _For those we can yet save…_ She glanced as the Exarch looked back up to the night sky. The metal fittings on his hood twinkled in the night, and Mara imagined his eyes (whatever color they were) reflected those glittering lights as well as he stared at the beauty; their shared triumph.

_That includes you too, Exarch, if you would allow it…_

_~~~~~_

The party was still going well into the night when Mara made it back to her quarters, exhausted. When she and the Exarch parted, she felt like she had no where to go; she decided to go back and sleep instead. Parts of her still ached from the ordeal in Holminster Switch, and, in truth, she had longed to rest for a while.

Though how she _would_ rest with the city still in an uproar was entirely another matter.

Mara almost expected it as she walked into her room, open the shades to let in the view of the night sky. “So, its your lot’s turn to be the Warriors of Darkness, is it?” said Ardbert, as he materialized behind her. “Funny how things work out.”

Mara turned her head, looked at the phantom warrior as he stared back at her. “Watching us in Holminster Switch, were you?”

Ardbert shrugged. “I don’t have anywhere else to go; I go where you are. You’re the only one who can _see_ me; might as well go where everything interesting is happening.”

“Hm,” said Mara, crossing the room. Sitting down on the bed, she gently pulled the tie from her hair, releasing her navy-blue tresses to cascade down to her waist. “So now you spy on my friends as well.”

“If I am going to be stuck watching this play, I might as well know the players,” Ardbert huffed, folding his arms across his chest. “Those white-haired twins that were with you, I remember them from our battle in the Source…especially that swordsman girl,” he said, shaking his head slightly.

Mara gave a little smirk of satisfaction, remembering the _thrashing_ Alisaie had given him in the end. “Those two, are they your friends, through thick and thin?”

Mara couldn’t answer that right away. The Scions were…they were companions, surely. People she could rely on, could trust. But friends? She was never too sure. The only person she could ever rightly say was a friend, a _true_ friend, was—

_A flash of red eyes, crimson hair, disappearing into crystal and gold—_

But she’d rather not explain all of this to a ghost that was haunting her night and day. “I suppose so,” she said, neutral.

“Then I suggest you keep them close. It’s when you charge ahead trying to save someone else that you end up losing the ones you love.”

Mara glanced at him, raised a curious eyebrow. “Are you saying I am reckless? That I _was_ reckless in Holminster Switch?”

“Just a warning,” shrugged Ardbert. “Take it or leave it.”

 _Might as well leave it,_ thought Mara, grimly, dearly wanting to tell the ghost off—but he was not yet done.

“I don’t have anything else to do but stand around so I might as well try and keep _you_ from becoming a shade as well,” explained Ardbert, pouting. “But even without losing _yourself_ , you should take care not to lose those close to you. Though I’m sure I don’t need to be the one to tell you this. I’ll bet you’ve lost plenty.”

Plenty…aye, that would be a good word for it. Mara folded her hands in her lap, staring down. The first loss had been before she could even remember it; her birth tribe, her father. Then came her mother, and the slow trickle of losses from her days as a Kahkol…ever since she came to Eorzea, became the Warrior of Light, there were other losses she couldn’t prevent—and though the Scions had a motto, _For those we have lost, for those we can yet save—_ it seemed more and more clear that the losses would be _personal_ while the ones saved…little, _tiny_ people, people she didn’t know at all.

Always, she would be sacrificing those she cared for most to save others, _unknown_ others—others that didn’t matter to _her._ Personal losses, impersonal gains—and for every loss, it chipped away more and more at the broken monument that was her heart.

And then came the worst loss, the lost that had _no_ gain at all, _no_ reason for it, _nothing but—_

Those ruby eyes would forever be burned into her soul.

Mara shook her head. “Perhaps…not that I need to tell _you_ about it.”

“Fair,” said Ardbert, pacing about her room. “But I wonder, if you continue down this path—what will it cost you this time?”

Mara didn’t answer, her eyes staring at the floor.

Ardbert continued. “I don’t remember when it was that I learned regret wasn’t worth the bother…You get numb to it, over the years. The lost comrades, the broken promises, the abandoned principles…just more nagging burdens to ignore.”

“It does not matter,” hissed Mara, her violet eyes snapping back to him. “As long as I still stand—does not matter at all.”

 _It_ can’t _matter._

Ardbert stared, his blue eyes widened in surprise. After a moment, a small smile appeared on his scuffed face. “Good answer, Warrior of Light.”

And then he faded away, leaving her be.

_~~~~~_

The next day, Mara dressed lightly in the dress Katliss and the Mean had made for her. It was beautiful, the fabrics soft, light, the half-skirt near bouncing as she walked compared to her usual heavy, traveling fabrics. It was nice, to be able to dress so lightly. The neckline was low, exposing the cord of her mother’s pendant, tucked down into the bodice, but other than that, it wasn’t anymore revealing than things she had worn before. It wasn’t clothes fit for travel, but for walking around the Crystarium, it was comfortable.

A reminder that she wasn’t _just_ a brute force of nature, brought to right the wrongs of the shard.

As she walked out of the Pendants, though, she realized perhaps she should’ve worn her traveling clothes after all—a Eulmorean airship hovered dangerously close to the city.

Immediately, Mara turned on her heel and raced to the Crystal Tower. It seems she was expected; the gatekeep let her in without even a greeting. Inside the Ocular, the Crystal Exarch was already there, along with Alphinaud and Alisaie.

“You are come at a good time,” said the Exarch, turning to her as she walked in. “We have a bit of a problem. Eulmore has sent one of its airships, seeking to parley. They have questions concerning the death of the Lightwarden, it seems.”

Alisaie folded her arms, “I suppose the sky does rather give the game away.”

The Exarch sighed; his voice unwavering. “’Twas inevitable that they would come knocking. The only question was how soon.”

As if his voice willed it into being, a knock was heard on the door. “My Lord, I am come with the Eulmorean emissary. May I show him in?” said Lyna, her voice hesitant, as if she knew of the Exarch’s guests.

“Ah, a moment, Captain Lyna, if you would,” said the Exarch, still smiling brightly. While Mara and the twins exchanged glances, wondering how they were going to get out of this, the Exarch merely smirked, crooking his finger towards them. “Over here,” he whispered.

They followed. “Forgive me, I do not wish to show our hand prematurely… _Vanish._ ”

As he said it, Mara felt something akin to cool water washing over her—when she looked down, her hand was gone; her entire body was invisible. She felt Alphinaud’s jump in surprise, Alisaie’s gasp.

They had never seen _this_ magic before.

The Exarch gave them all a mirthful smile, lifting a finger too his lips in a way that made Mara _shudder._ Then, he turned back, positioned himself like a king in his throne room, and commanded, “Enter.”

That same sense of _wrongness_ came over Mara as the Eulmorean emissary walked in. It was like the sin eaters in Holmister Swtich but slightly…lesser. A smaller scale. The man was no sin eater but he radiated _power_ like one—like a monster, hissing beneath the surface. His clothes were white, his hair white, his silver eyes looking around, as if for an opening in defenses—the man was large, held himself like one who knew every counter, every parry, and was waiting for the moment to strike; to take advantage. Without ever seeing him fight, Mara could tell he would be a formidable opponent.

“I see, you are the Eulmorean emissary they sent. To what do I owe the honor, General Ran’jiit?” asked the Exarch, his fingers tensing on his staff.

“The LIghtwarden is dead, Exarch,” General Ran’jiit said, his voice low; accusatory. “Were your people responsible?”

“Before I answer that question, allow me one of my own,” said the Exarch, not backing down. “What is Eulmore’s interest in this?”

“Hmph,” said Ran’jiit. “Lord Vauthry is gravely concerned that the actions of an ignorant few may jeopardize the relationship between man and sin eater. Should we learn the Crystarium was responsible for this outrage…My lord has decreed that is suffer the same… _retribution.”_

Mara’s hands tightened at her sides, anger bubbling up in her gut. How _dare_ Ran’jiit stand there, speak to the Exarch like this! Like that man was a child in need of scolding, not a ruler, a leader in his own right! Her hands clenched into fists, her teeth clenching and yet—the Exarch never did show a single emotion.

“I see. Since you have been so candid, allow me to speak my mind,” said the Exarch, _carefully_. “Regardless of who is responsible, the Crystarium _rejoices_ in the Lightwarden’s defeat, and welcomes the return of the night sky. If Eulmore considers this treason, then by all means, carry out your ‘retribution.’”

Mara silently gasped, wondering what the Exarch was thinking, provoking him like this—but the Exarch wasn’t done. “Know this,” the Exarch’s voice lowered, serious. “Even should every innocent soul in the Crystarium perish, _nothing_ can stop that which has been set in motion.”

The Exarch stood taller, his chin higher—despite Ran’jiit towering over him, as the Exarch gave off his warning, Mara could see the power in him all the same—the Exarch _meant_ his threat.

For all his kindness, Mara was reminded that the Exarch was still a leader, still a man in charge of his people—and he would do _anything_ to protect them. He was strong, stronger than this Ran’jiit could ever have anticipated—and he _would_ see it through to the end.

Heart beating just a little faster, Mara continued to watch. Ran’jiit stared at the Exarch, perhaps thrown off guard, before sighing. “Folly. The death of one or a thousand thousand sin eaters changes nothing. The world is dead, Exarch. Only by my master’s grace shall we live out our days in peace. The more we struggle, the more we prolong the inevitable…but I fear I waste my breath. You have made your stance clear. I shall relay your words to Lord Vauthry.”

“Then we understand one another,” said the Exarch, and he was _not_ smiling. “Good day, General Ran’jiit.”

The general sneered, his silvery eyes seeming to light up, but he paused before exiting the ocular. “One last matter. We are searching for a young artist and his lovely assistant. They are charged with inciting rebellion in Eulmore. Know you of whom I speak?”

Mara held her breath. But if the Exarch knew of it, he did not show it. “An artist and his ‘lovely’ assistant, hmm? No, I cannot I say I do.”

“A pity, then. Lord Vauthry was especially taken with the assistant. Should they _reveal_ themselves to you, I bid you hand them both over at once. My master is most eager to _see_ them again…especially _her._ ”

Cold, silver eyes darted to the corner where Mara and the twins stood, hidden. That look pierced her right through, like a blow to her soul.

But Ran’jiit said nothing of it, only continued walking out of the Ocular. Once the door was shut, the Exarch’s mouth formed a frown, and he slammed his staff down on the floor. The enchantment faded, and the twins both let out breaths they must’ve been holding.

“Did he just…stare at us?” stared Alisaie, looking at the Exarch for some explanation.

“I fear he did,” sighed the Exarch. “The general is not a man to be trifled with. If Eulmore chose to send such an individual, we can assume this talk of retribution is more than an idle threat.”

“We are grateful for your support, my Lord,” said Alphinaud, walking forward. “But we cannot in good conscience put your people in harm’s way.”

The Exarch’s mouth upturned into a wry little smile, one that struck Mara in an _entirely_ different way that Ran’jiits cold gaze had. “’Tis noble of you to say, but my people have been in harm’s way since long before you arrived.”

As they mused, Captain Lyna walked in, nodding to the Exarch. “He is returning to his airship, my Lord. We have some time to think on this, for now.”

“That is good,” said the Exarch, visibly relaxing. “Truth be told, I would not have been surprised if Ran’jiit had declared war here and now.”

“He may have reasons to delay,” said the Viis, hand on her hip. “Scouts report that the Eulmoran forces at Laxan Loft in Lakeland were observed taking a prisoner. We believe this prisoner is none other than the Oracle of Light—Minfilia.”

Mara _snapped_ to attention now. She had been fading out slightly; politics was never something she cared for, she much preferred Alisaie’s brute-force approach to these things. But that name dragged her out of whatever thoughts (if she was being honest, musings about Exarch’s tone and posture during his confrontation with Ran’jiit) she had in mind. _Minfilia? But she’s…_

“It may be that General Ran’jiit wishes to convey her safely back to Eulmore before commencing hostilities. Havin mentored generations of Minfilias, it would not surprise me if he made her capture his chief concern.”

 _Now_ Mara could no longer stay silent. “I am sorry—‘generations of Minfilias?’”

Alphinaud, Alisaie, and the Exarch all turned to her, as she stared in confusion. The twins didn’t look surprised by this turn of phrase. So, what exactly—?

“Ah, how remiss of me,” said the Exarch, his voice smooth in understanding. “I meant to speak to you of Minfilia. There is, however, much to say, and precious little time to say it.”

“But…Minfilia?” Mara glanced between the twins. They both looked at her with some mix of pity and concern. “ _Our_ Minfilia? I do not understand…”

Alphinaud sighed. “That is…a difficult question to answer, I’m afraid.”

“Then _answer_ it!” snapped Mara.

“We will,” said Alisaie. “But, you must prepare yourself.”

As she stared between the two, back at the Exarch…Mara wondered how much more things she would have to ‘prepare herself’ for, before the end of all this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to see more great ffxiv fic, join our [bookclub](https://discord.gg/enabling-debauched-xivfic)!


	6. Kingdom of the Fae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seeking the Lightwarden, the Scions travel to Il Mheg, though Mara's thoughts are elsewhere...

_“Why?” said Mara, staring at him with such disbelief—such_ grief _in her violet eyes. “Why would you do this—how could you?”_

_G’raha turned away, crimson ears lowering to his head, now unmasked. “I did what I had to do,” he said, offering no excuses. “I did what I must—and I would do it again, a thousand, thousand times.”_

_She shook her head, tears in her eyes as she reached for him—he let out a soft gasp, a needy sound as her hand caressed his cheek, her thumb running over the spar of crystal. “But why do this, burden yourself with it…just for me?”_

_He looked back at her, scarlet eyes hardened. “Yes, just for you._ All _for you, and no one else! There was no one else I could have—no one else ever would…” He stopped, a choked sound escaping him as he held back a sob. His hand came to clasp over hers, to savor that feeling. “It’s always been you,” he whispered, begging._

_“You know what it might cost, what might happen to you, and you still—”_

_“I will!” G’raha snapped, “Even if it cost me my life, as long as yours is saved! I won’t hesitate, not even for an instant!”_

_“And what about what_ I _want?” Mara countered, pulling back her hand. “What if all I want is you to live! Raha—I—I spent two years, dreaming of you,_ wishing for you _, wondering over and over what I could have done to stop you. And now you are here, telling me I have step back, have watch as you—”_

“Yes!” _He was crowding her; she was backed up against the wall of the Ocular now, and it was one of the rare moments where he remembered he was taller than her—one of the very few people he was. “For a hundred years I have plotted and planned the way to save your life! I will not yield because you want it so!” She looked small, fragile standing there, encased by him, and yet she did not back down._

_“Do not ask me this, Raha, I will not have it, I will not let you sacrifice yourself for me!”_

_“You must!”_

“Why?”

_G’raha paused, the worlds failing on his tongue. Her violet eyes stared at him, all fire and yet…she was waiting. Waiting for the words he knew he would have to say._

_His hand came forward, to brush aside a fallen lock of her navy-blue hair behind her horn, as he had done so long ago. “Because I love you,” he whispered, watching as her mouth parted in a silent gasp._

“Raha…” _she breathed, something else reflecting in her eyes now._

 _Raha_ slammed _his lips on hers, and she responded with all enthusiasm; a swallowed moan in her mouth as he tangled his hands in her hair, thrust his tongue inside. Her fingers stroked his ears, pulled away his hair tie, before her nails dug into his back. He parted their mouths for only a moment as he lifted her up in his arms, rewarded with a surprised squeak as he pushed her against the wall, her legs wrapping around his waist. She wasn’t wearing the high-collared Neo-Ishgardian fashions now; she was in her old dark blue trench coat from Mor Dhona, with the impossibly low neckline, and he took the advantage—kissing and nipping and suckling all down her neck. “Raha!” she cried out as he trailed downward, down to kiss the swell of her breasts._ “Gods—” _she panted as he pushed closer, rutting up against her as he captured her lips again._

The Crystal Exarch awoke in his room in the tower with a start, sweaty hair clinging to his face, panting and shaking and very much _alone._

Sighing, the Exarch fell back onto his sparse bed, wiping the sweat off his brow, his loose bangs with this spoken hand. This is why he usually didn’t indulge in sleep…Dreams of her were not a rare event, and thankfully this one had cut off before it had gotten more…embarrassing. _Those_ dreams had always plagued him, a reminder that though he may be a half-man of Crystal, parts of him were still flesh and blood, and responded in kind. The Crystal Exarch was an enigma, a leader; had to appear to be regal, kind, and _certainly_ not controlled by darker desires. But the man beneath the cowl had never been able to fully banish his base instincts, the shame of all those times over a hundred long years he gave into those thoughts, had gasped out her name in singular ecstasy…It was enough to make him flush, even now.

The Exarch kicked off the blanket, walking over to the crystalline window that gave a rather stunning view of the night sky. He was dressed only in his black shorts, his hair unbound as he pressed his Spoken hand against the cool, transparent crystal. Those stars…how long had it been since he had felt the starlight on his face, unmasked? He supposed it didn’t matter—he never would again. He would die in his cowl, unnamed, a man shrouded in mystery even to his dying breath. That was the way it had to be, but…

He always had an affinity for the night sky. Even those years when he did not see it, he _remembered_ it, remembered how the stars had shone down back then, that night in Mor Dhona—their first night, their _last—_

He left her no trinket to remember him by; the night sky was all they had of each other, now. Did she look to the stars, think of him often? He had hoped she would move on, would forget him and yet…the way she spoke the other day at the top of the tower…

“The worst loss,” she had named him. He knew before he did it it would wound her terribly. But she had survived, as he knew she would. But now, after seeing her again, seeing the way she reacted to seeing the Crystal Tower, _his_ tower, and then when she said his name—

 _“Did you truly care for him?”_ he had asked, a softer term for what he had burned to ask. And yet, all she could reply was…

_“I do not know.”_

And that was the truth of it. Perhaps it was her way of softening the blow, but…Though she had mourned G’raha Tia, she thought of him as a friend; a good friend, at most. Nothing more. What happened that night at the lake was a passing fancy, perhaps. A summer fling, gone with the falling leaves of autumn. No, she had not loved G’raha Tia, not as he had loved her—had _dreamed_ of her night and day for over a hundred years.

But he did not need her love to do what he must. He had resolved himself long ago to love her from a distance, to use that as the fuel to keep him going, no matter how hard it became. It would be in love that he would offer the final sacrifice, his life for hers, and he could think of no better way that this would end.

For in those tales of his childhood, the hero always sacrificed themselves for their love, did they not?

The Exarch gave a little snort, drawing his hand back from the glass, looking upon both arms, Spoken and crystal. Even without his planned sacrifice, he could feel the icy needles of the crystal slowly creeping upward, outward—he could not keep this form forever. Eventually the Tower would take back its gift, it was only a matter of time. And rather than die in agony, alone, watching himself slowly turn to stone, he would go out in a blaze of glory, a sacrifice to end all others. Maybe a story would be written of it, one day.

But more importantly, _she_ would live. She would live, she would return to her world, and she would move on, the rest of her life ahead of her. Maybe she would find someone, eventually. Maybe she would have that family he suspected she wanted. She would get all of that, all of that happiness, and though he would not live to see it, he was content.

 _My guiding star,_ he thought, staring back up at the starlight shimmering down. _Burn bright…and_ live.

_~~~~~_

“…thus, after fully realizing the truth behind mine vision, did I endeavor to discover how to we must never allow such a future to come to pass. To that end, I came here, to unravel the secrets behind the Lights inexplicable potency.”

Mara blinked, hand on her teacup, realizing Urianger had finished speaking. She understood about half of it…something something, Black Rose, prevent the rejoining? She knew magic, aye, but the finer points of aetherology were beyond her. “Right…I see…” she said, taking a long sip of the bitter tea. “Where does that put us?”

“Whence we were before, to put it shortly,” said Urianger with a smile; Mara suspected he knew she had hardly listened to his speech beforehand. “Thou must slay the Lightwardens, and restore balance to this land; only then shall the calamity on the Source, and the spread of Black Rose, be prevented.”

So, it really was all down to these Lightwardens…all down to _her._ “Have you located the Lightwarden in Il Mheg?” asked Thancred.

Urianger nodded. “Aye, ‘Tis all but certainly ensconced within Lyhe Ghiah, the castle which standeth in the midst of the Lake. I also have ascertained of the Lightwarden’s identity. ‘Tis none other than the pixie king, Titania. Their king defeated the last Lightwarden, but succumbed to its corrupting aether all the same. Thus is the way for all creatures…save the Warrior of Light, I am told,” said Urianger with a smile at her. “Before we slay the Lightwarden, we needst work with the fae folk to gain entrance to the castle—and to be sure our efforts will not enrage their people. While their king is mad, Titania still ruleth as king over Il Mheg, and their subjects might takest offence.”

Mara set her teacup down, finger tracing the top of the cup. After the last encounter with the pixies in Lydha Lran, she wasn’t too keen on finding out how terrifying the fae could be while enraged. “How will plan for that?”

“I should’st think that visiting the different fae folk and explaining our situation should work—they do understand reason.”

Thancred gave a very loud snort from across the table. Mara was inclined to agree. It only took efforts from Feo Ul to finally get the Lydha Lran pixies to let up, and only _after_ Alphinaud and Alisaie were basically kidnapped and forced to play whatever games the pixies designed for them…Mara could not pity them more.

“Still, we have a plan,” said Thancred, standing up from the tea table. “Can we rest here tonight, old friend? We should set out on the morrow.”

Urianger smiled, and nodded. “I should’st think thou would not have to ask.”

Before Thancred could quip, Minfilia came back in, looking hesitant; her mystical blue eyes lowered. “Um, I did as you asked, Thancred,” she said, handing over a small pouch.

Thancred gave her a rare smile. “That’s my girl, thank you.”

Minfilia smiled slightly, before glancing at Mara behind him. Mara didn’t know what to think at first, after Alphinaud and Alisaie explained the situation of “this” Minfilia. Though she shared a name, the same appearance—this girl seemed different than the Minfilia Mara had known. But so far, she had hardly said much to her, much less figured out all the intricacies…

And…not to mention how Thancred interacted with her…

“We’ll stay here tonight,” said Thancred, looking down at the girl. “Why not start getting ready, Minfilia? We have a lot of traveling to do tomorrow.”

“…Right, of course.” She said, hurrying off to the upstairs.

Mara had known that Thancred and _their_ Minfilia were close, but how close was…debatable. Mara certainly had her own opinion, but Thancred would never come out and say it. As for this new Minfilia, he treated her like…like it hurt to look on her. Like he would look past her to see something else, see _someone_ else there instead.

Mara’s fingertips traced the bump of the jade pendant hidden beneath her clothes. She knew the feeling well, too well…

 _“Leave me alone girl, I can’t look at you today,”_ her mother had said to her, years and years ago. _“Your eyes…Why were you cursed with his eyes?”_

Mara gritted her teeth a moment, clasping the hidden pendant tight. Yes, she knew the feeling of someone wishing you were someone else but…

 _No!_ Her mother was…her mother was a good mother, wasn’t she? It wasn’t the same…it couldn’t be…

Mara didn’t _want_ it to be.

She shook her head, letting go of the pendant. She _could not_ think of this now! Her mother was dead and long gone—what did it matter if—?

“In any case,” said Urianger, snapping Mara out of those thoughts. Thancred had already left to set up camp outside. “Rest, even for a few hours, might be the prudent course. Especially for thee, Warrior of Darkness,” he looked at her with a wry smile.

“Yes,” sighed Mara, absently. “But…” No one else was here. If she was going to ask, she had to do it now. “Urianger,” she began, sitting up straighter in her chair, folding her hands on the table. “I…I have decided to trust Exarch, for now, but…” She bit her lip for a moment. How would she phrase this? “You spent quite some time with him forming plan, did you not? After your vision, I mean?”

Urianger raised an eyebrow, but instead of rebuffing her, he sat back down at the table. “I did,” he said, calmly, _carefully_. “The Exarch is…he is a most interesting man.”

“Powerful, too…Alphinaud said he…he reminds him of grandfather.”

“Ah, Master Louisouix, I can see the resemblance…” Urianger chuckled. “The magic that the Exarch did’st master, pulling someone across the Rift—such a thing has never been seen before, on any shard. I daresay he is indeed quite powerful, mayhap more powerful than we think. But that power is also in his resolve—the man has seen much and yet, he continues on, no matter the cost.”

“I…see…” said Mara. She wasn’t sure why she asked. She wasn’t sure why she _kept_ asking—everyone returned such glowing praise of the man and yet—she felt like she was missing something, some last piece of the puzzle—

“But thou did’st not wish to speak of his power, did you?” Urianger smirked. “What ails thee, child?”

Mara’s eyes snapped up to his, glaring. She wasn’t aware she was a _child—_ Though Urianger might have met her when she was barely older than the twins, she was _certainly_ older than that now! “I just…he has so many secrets, Urianger. I feel like—like this is something I should know, something I _did_ know—It make no sense but—” _Why do I keep thinking about this? Why do I keep thinking about_ him?

But the older Elezen’s expression softened. Perhaps, he understood? “The man keeps his secrets because he must. There are…there are those out there that would seek to destroy him, and all he hast built. For that, he must hide himself, even to allies. Thou might think it means he does’t not trust you but do not take it personally—he has the best of intentions in mind. Especially when it concerns thee…In fact, _especially_ when it concerns thee.”

Mara sighed again. That might be the best answer she would ever get. She would have to learn to live with it, even if it set her on edge. “All right. Everyone else seems to trust him so…One day, I hope he will trust _me_ enough to share some of those secrets.”

Urianger was looking at her, staring, as if he had never considered something before. “Mayhap he might,” the Elezen offered, glancing away in thought. “Once the Lightwardens are slain. In fact, I think…it was to be anyone, surely he would’st share it with thee.”

_~~~~~_

After the Fuath, Mara was quite done with the Fae Folk of Il Mheg. But of course, their journey did not end there—to the Nu Mou they went, seeking the rest of the King’s treasures. Compared to the Fuath, things ended well (though _everything_ would be better than their rendezvous with the Fuath) and then it was off to the amaro. Mara had seen amaro in the Crystarium, had gotten to deliver the blankets from the Crystalline Mean herself, and had quite enjoyed her time with the feathered birds that were not-quite-chocobos. But the amaro of Il Mheg had learned to _talk_ of all things, and parley with them was actually pleasant. Especially with…

“I wish I could’ve told him, back then,” said Seto, the words wavering on his tongue. “How much I loved that medallion. How much I enjoyed traveling with him. He was a good man, no matter how it ended. I wish he knew that…”

Mara glanced to the side, seeing a familiar shade standing there, looking up at the amaro in awe. Smiling slightly, Mara replied. “He does. Am sure of it.”

Seto looked down at her, his eyes narrowing. “You remind me of him, you know. Your kindness. In fact, your soul is similar to his, strikingly so. I cannot help but feel that this is no coincidence.”

 _Well, we are both ‘Warriors of Light and Darkness’,_ thought Mara with a wry smile.

“Thus, I shall place my faith in you,” said Seto, nodding in decision. “The relic is yours. Now, do what you must to rid us of the Lightwarden of this land—as Ardbert would have done.”

As they took the relic, the final piece needed to enter the castle of the Lightwarden, Mara spoke, words full of resolve. “I will, you have my word.”

Off to the side, the bright shade took one last look at her, one last, longing look at the amaro, and disappeared.

_~~~~~_

As the others readied themselves for the final assault, Mara found Minfilia sitting by herself, looking out to the lake. They had traveled together for a while now; she could not put this off forever. And so, Mara approached her as Minfilia polished the twin daggers at her side. “Oh!” gasped Minfilia, staring up at her as if startled. “I did not see you there—is everything all right?”

“Yes I—” Mara started, stopped, started again. “I wanted see how you are doing. I did not realize you use daggers in battle.”

Minfilia looked down at the daggers in her hands. “Thancred taught me, though I am still learning. The other Minfilias before me used to battle sin eaters as part of the Eulmore Army—it was time I learn to fight, too. Though Eulmore wanted to keep me locked up; safe—I did not start to learn until Thancred spirited me away.” She sheathed the daggers at her side, musing. “You know, when Thancred found me, I knew nothing of the world. I didn’t know how to _live,_ let alone fight. But I would have to learn—I’m still learning.”

“I do not think anyone _truly_ knows how to live,” quipped Mara. “We try, but no one knows for sure.”

The smallest of smiles appeared on the girl’s face. “That might be true! Still…I can always learn more, of the world, and how to fight.” Minfilia clasped her hands behind her back, looking away for a moment. “You know, Thancred told me that if the efforts to summon you failed, it would fall to me to face the Lightwardens.”

“I am sure he did not mean you _alone_ —”

“That _is_ what he meant,” snapped Minfilia, turning those icy eyes back on her. “Minfilias of old faced the Lightwardens, why not I? That’s the only reason he kept me close after all, as a contingency.”

Unease raced through Mara’s gut, unsure how to handle this. “That is not—”

“It _is!_ I know he can’t stand me because I’m not _her!_ I’m not _his_ Minfilia and I—” The girl stopped mid-sentence, her eyes watering. Gritting her teeth, Minfilia looked away, folding her arms across her chest. “I’m sorry, I did not mean to speak ill of your friend. I shouldn’t even be complaining—Thancred takes good care of me, and I am grateful for him for freeing me from my cell.”

Mara sighed, looking back at the lake, the sunbeams shimmering off the clear waters. Running a finger over the outline of her jade pendant, she began, “I know something of that…more than you realize. I never knew my Father and Mother—she was always ill. She died when I was very young but…she could never look at me. Not really. She looked at me from corner of her eyes, never wanting me to meet her gaze.”

Minfilia turned to her, staring as Mara said the words she had never admitted to anyone before—never admitted to _herself._ “I had Father’s eyes, you see, and if she looked into them, she could only see him—only remember pain. So, she pushed me away rather than see… _me_ …” A lump was forming in Mara’s throat, as her eyes fell damp—she _forced_ those thoughts away. This wasn’t about _her_ , no this was about making Minfilia feel better—and _nothing_ else. “So, I mean, perhaps I do understand what is like...Knowing they rather see someone else when look at you.”

Minfilia stared, opened her mouth to say something else—

But she was cut off as they both— _all_ of Il Mheg—heard an eerie screeching in their mind.

_~~~~~_

As Titania fell, as the light dissipated, absorbed by Mara’s aether, Feo Ul, appeared, flitting about the castle. “’Tis done,” the crimson pixie said, surveying the damage. “You have freed our fallen king. Not that I expected any less, my adorable sapling!”

“Could have warned me they could command plants,” quipped Mara, brushing the burrs and sap off her skirt, the ash from the blasts from her fire egi. She had to practically create a whirlwind of fire to destroy all the vines coming for her, and by then, Titania was _not_ happy.

“Why? You gave such an excellent performance!” smirked Feo Ul, summoning the fae relics above the throne. “The dress, the crown, the scepter, the shoes—the time has come for these relics to serve their true purpose. For they are not only keys to the castle; they are also blessings to be bestowed upon the new king. For the brave soul who does the deed has the honor of taking their place.”

Mara’s stomach dropped. Did that…did she hear Feo Ul correctly? Was that the price of killing the king, destroying the Lightwarden of this land?

“Should you ascend the throne, you will become one of us, never again to live as men do…if you so chose.”

The words froze in Mara’s mouth as the pixie flew towards her. A choice…it sounded similar to what _he_ said…kneeling before her in that courtyard, gazing up at her as if she was _his_ queen, _his_ goddess…

Her heart raced for a whole _other_ reason now.

“My adorable sapling, my precious mortal,” soothed Feo Ul, affection in her words. “We fae folk live forever, you see, but such is not your virtue. To strive for a dream you will never see—to sow seeds that others might one day taste the fruits of your garden— _that_ is the beauty of your kind. For you are his guiding star, my sapling—burn bright and shine only as you can. These blessings, your lovely branch will accept in your stead.”

Mara barely had a chance to register Feo Ul’s instance that she was “his” guiding star before the pixie disappeared in a flash of light. “ _Wait!”_ Mara reached out to that light, squeezing her eyes shut as the glimmer dimmed—

Then before her stood Titania, the _new_ Titania, king of Il Mheg. “Feo…Ul?” said Mara, staring at the familiar red hue.

“Oh, what insolence!” said Titania/Feo Ul, shaking the scepter at her. “As ever, my beloved sapling is so insolent! Whatever punishment shall I set for you, hmm? You are before Titania, the _king!_ ”

Mara tried, failed, not to laugh. “I see. And my _gracious branch_ is same as ever.”

Titania huffed, pouting. “Mayhap I shall find a new sapling for myself, hmm? One that is not so mocking! I have much more power now, I can see in your heart, all those scathing comments you want to make and—” Titania paused, flying closer to her as Mara took a quick step back. Titania’s tone changed completely as they said, “There is conflict in your heart as well, is there not? I see it in there, all that unease.”

Mara _hoped_ they wouldn’t ask, _hoped_ that the fae king wasn’t nearly as powerful as to see it clearly, but—

“That unease…it is similar to the crystal sapling’s, is it not? Both of you, so lost in your own thoughts.”

Mara sighed, staring at the floor. Well, if Feo Ul— _Titania_ —could see it all anyway— “I can’t stop thinking about him,” she admitted in the smallest whisper. “And I do not—I do not know _why_. I want to trust him, want to believe him and yet—”

Mara was cut off went a gentle hand traced her cheek, the pixie king looking down into her eyes, smiling. “Your heart is adrift, my dear sapling. In time, you will find your safe harbor. Speak with the Crystal Exarch, and I think it will work out. You are _his_ guiding star; you need not fear him. He would give you the world, if he could.”

As Titania pulled away, Mara’s face flushed even redder, heart pounding faster. Why did they have to phrase it like _that_? Like the Crystal Exarch was—was— _in love_ with her or something! Surely it wasn’t like _that—_

“Now then,” said Titania, rising up in their full glory. “There are strangers in Il Mheg. Shall we attend to those unwise enough to trespass in our realm?” The Fae king said, grinning wide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are wondering about Mara's thoughts on her mother, it was alluded to in the previous fics, but Mara is in a bit of denial about it, so it's never been fully laid out before the relationship between her and her mother was...not normal. Certainly neglectful, at _best._ But with the situation with Thancred and Ryne...it was high time I finally get explicit into how _wrong_ it was.
> 
> To see more great ffxiv fic, join our [bookclub](https://discord.gg/enabling-debauched-xivfic)!


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